Covenant of the Serpent
by RoBoC
Summary: Continuation of Taking the Train. Hermione finds that her life is about to get very complicated indeed. She suddenly finds herself in uncharted territory, with nowhere to turn for help. Alone and confused, her only hope lies in the last place she expected
1. The House of Bulls

BIG A/N:

_Alrighty folks, here we are again, another RoBoC concoction for your reading pleasure. Before we begin, I would just like to bend your ears for a moment, while I explain a little about the origins of this fic._

_Way back in May, I posted a fic called 'Taking the Train', which I wrote as a birthday treat for the love of my life, Raffy. For those of you that read it, thank you whole-heartedly for your comments, they were greatly appreciated at the time._

_TTT started out as a PWP one-shot, just something fun to put a smile on my girl's face, but, as with so many of the things I do, it grew as I wrote it and took on a life of its own. By the time I had finished, I honestly was not sure whether I would continue with it, or leave it stand alone. Over the intervening months, the story has been growing in my head and so, purely motivated by the desire to keep my baby smiling, I have decided to keep it going._

_So anyways, down to business. This fic carries on exactly where Taking the Train left off, and it references it heavily, so if you haven't yet read that story, you should definitely do so now, before you read on – It's archived on my account (ffnet don't like me using URLs in stories so just check my account)_

_Now, onto the fic, enjoy folks._

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The steam from the engine wafted in great clouds along the platform. Malfoy had no sooner alighted ahead of Hermione than he had disappeared from view entirely. Biting her lip and trying hard not to stumble over the step, Hermione followed him. There was a wash of heat all around her as her foot touched solid ground.

Disgorged passengers from the train thronged the platform, a sea of black cloaks moved before Hermione's eyes. Where was Malfoy? She couldn't see him anywhere. Was he so ashamed at having kissed her that he couldn't bear to be near her any longer? Hermione looked around for him. Part of her hoped that he was embarrassed for the way he had treated her, getting her drunk and then taking advantage of her like that. He should be ashamed. He shouldn't have done it. Why had he done it? Had it happened at all?

'No…no…stop it Hermione,' she admonished herself, 'It did happen…he did…he did kiss you…the only question is, why?'

She nearly laughed out loud at the thought, the only question? That was a joke. Her head was full of questions, each less pleasant than the last. They all jockeyed and shuffled about inside her mind, seeking her attention. The cloud of drunken drowsiness in her head was starting give way to a headache now. The pain, coupled with the last, lingering effects of the wine, left her feeling utterly befuddled. What the hell was Malfoy playing at? Had her friends betrayed her? Who could she trust?

"…ninny!" a familiar voice called from somewhere in the crowd to her left. Hermione turned and her eyes fell on Viktor as he came striding through the crowd toward her, beaming wide and waving as he called her name. Instantly, Hermione felt her stomach churn as she realised just how alone she really was. Here she stood, stranded in a foreign country of which she had no real knowledge, with an arrogant prat for an escort and a head full of endless questions and doubts. One of those doubts was embodied in the figure walking toward her now.

There he was, Viktor Krum, as tall and as handsome as she remembered him. There was her friend, her first boyfriend on top of that, the boy that had given her her first real kiss, and been the first person ever to show any real interest in her as a girl.

'Ten galleons,' Malfoy's words came back to haunt her. Had Viktor's courtship of her been just an act? Had it all been a charade he made up to win a lousy ten-galleon bet? With those thoughts, Hermione felt herself become angry once again, and she didn't try to stop herself this time. The anger was pushing the pain and doubt aside, letting her think clearly for a moment. She didn't know if the whole bet story was true or not, but she knew one way to find out. She'd ask him straight out and he would answer, oh yes, he would answer. She would make him answer.

Hermione shook herself. Rationality followed clear thought, and fear followed rationality. Was finding out the truth such a good idea? Asking Viktor right here, right now, seemed a callous thing to do. What if it was a lie? Even asking the question would show him how little she trusted him and, regardless of the answer, it was bound to start a row between them. Did she really want that to happen mere seconds after they had seen each other for the first time in almost two years? Ok, so the question was valid, and the answer was damned important to her, but, as his friend, didn't she owe him the benefit of the doubt, at least for a little while? On the other hand, could she in all conscience allow her friend to believe that all was well between them when it wasn't?

Such were her thoughts as Viktor stopped in front of her and, without a moment's hesitation, pulled her into a tight hug. On reflex, Hermione dropped the bags she was carrying and returned his hug, albeit half-heartedly. She even managed to make herself smile at him as he drew back and beamed down at her. Viktor's smile faded and he moved forward as though to give her a kiss. An alarm bell rang in her head. She panicked and sought a way to stop him without seeming obvious.

"Hi, Viktor," she said quickly, and rather more loudly than she had intended.

A moment of surprise crossed Viktor's face, but it passed as his smile returned, "Hello…" he coughed, "Her-my-oh-knee," he said slowly and carefully.

At this, a real smile caught her lips. "You've been practicing!" she said, her doubts momentarily forgotten as she recalled his endless unsuccessful attempts to say her name properly.

Viktor nodded and smiled, "Da," he said, "I havv. Voz it good?"

"Very good," Hermione smiled, "It's perfect." Without thinking, she stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. In an instant, the peace in her mind shattered. The monster returned and started tearing into her again, telling her that this was not her friend, that he had betrayed her in the worst way that she could imagine. That her 'friend' didn't consider her a friend at all, that she was just a prize that he was still trying to win. She tried to ignore her doubts, she willed herself to think of something else, but she just couldn't.

The distress in her mind must have shown on her face because Viktor's smile faded. He frowned at her, "Iz everyting ok?" he asked.

Hermione shook herself, "What?" she shut her eyes and took a breath, "Oh…yes…yes," this wasn't the time, she told her self, not now, "Everything's fine, Viktor."

"You seem upset?"

"No," she shook her head again, "No…just a little tired, that's all. It's been a long day," she said. 'And then some,' she added miserably to herself.

"Yes," Viktor said, smiling again, though not as wide as before, "You must be tired. Come," he turned and beckoned her to move on, "Zis vay…I vill take them," he added quickly when Hermione made to stoop for her bags.

The stubborn streak in her heart made Hermione resist his chivalrous gesture. The bags weren't that heavy after all, Malfoy having taken the largest ones. Hermione felt more than capable of carrying the rest herself and so, to prove her point, she bent down quickly and snatched up one of the bags before Viktor could pick it up. In deference to the fact that she was tired, however, and the fact that Viktor was quite a bit bigger than she was, she made sure to only take hold of the smallest bag, leaving the rest for him.

The crowd on the platform had thinned slightly during their conversation, but not so much as to make it easy to navigate their way to the gate. Hermione scanned the crowd around them. Wherever she looked, people seemed to be staring at her all of a sudden, though she had no idea why.

"Juzt a little further," Viktor's voice sounded behind Hermione as she walked on, lost in thought.

"Oh…right," she answered. Then she remembered whom she was walking with. Viktor was famous in Bulgaria, big Quidditch star that he was. His face decorated hundreds upon hundreds of bedroom walls across Europe. She saw three teenage girls hiding behind their hands and giggling as she and Viktor passed by.

'Care to trade places?' she voiced the question internally, and she meant it too. At that moment, she would gladly have traded places with any one of them, anything to be somewhere else, to be somebody else. Despite, or perhaps because of the uncertainty in her heart, Viktor's presence was making her feel uncomfortable, like she was trapped, or on display, a trophy on a superstar's arm, so to speak. The idea sickened her.

Hermione continued to watch the crowd. She didn't know why, the stares were really starting to get to her. Her normal reaction would be to ignore them, to rise above such petty things. Not today though, it was as though she was looking for something, or someone. She nearly tripped up on her own foot when it hit her. Malfoy! She was actually looking for Malfoy amid the crowd. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she looking for that inconsiderate idiot when here beside her was a boy that had shown her nothing but kindness since the day they met? A sideways glance at Viktor gave her answer when she felt the stomach drop from inside her. No matter what he may or may not have done to betray her trust, right now she just wasn't comfortable in Viktor's company.

'Ok,' she thought, 'but would Malfoy be any better?'

The honest answer, which worried her more than the question, was that she just didn't know. She was all at sea here, and was desperately trying to tread the waters. In any case, it was irrelevant; there was no sign of any blonde heads amongst the crowd. Where the hell was he?

"Vat is the matter?" Viktor laid a hand on her shoulder, making her jump in fright.

"I was just…" Hermione began, then paused when she saw the look of concern on Viktor's face, "Malfoy," she said sternly, "I was just wondering where he had gone off to."

"Draco…yes," Viktor nodded, "I passed him a vew moments bevore I met you. He too vas a bit tired I tink," Viktor's eyes narrowed as he looked carefully at Hermione's face for a moment. When she turned away from his stare, he said, "Draco sed something about needing to use ze bathroom. He sed he vould meet us at ze car."

A hard knot formed in Hermione's stomach as she joined the end of the queue of people that were making their way out of the station. The car? Viktor had a car? That hadn't occurred to her either. How far away was his house? She had no idea. She hadn't ever been there before, always finding excuses not to accept his invitations to join him for a holiday. Car? It struck her as odd that a wealthy pureblood wizard like Viktor would use muggle transportation. She had assumed that he would have prepared some other means of conveying them from the station to his home. After her experience on the train, the idea of being stuck in a small space with Viktor for who knows how long made her sick to her stomach, or was that the wine? Either way, the idea of travelling by car didn't make her feel good at all.

A kind looking inspector stopped Hermione at the gate leading out of the station. The elderly witch smiled at her and spoke to her in a soft voice. Hermione didn't understand the words she heard, but she had travelled by train often enough to get the idea. The inspector waited and struck up a slightly gooey sounding conversation with Viktor while Hermione blushed in embarrassment and rummaged about in her pockets to find her ticket.

Finding it at last, and with a quiet, "Sorry," Hermione handed the ticket to the inspector, who examined it briefly before handing it back and waving Hermione through the gate. She heard Viktor exchange a few parting words with the inspector, before he hurried to catch up.

Through the gate, Hermione found herself in the main terminal building. All around her, people were milling about, all of them caught up in their own business, and all of them, she noticed, were wizards. Hermione was surprised to see so many magical folk in one place, with no apparent fear of being seen by muggles. Come to think of it… "Where are all the muggles?" she asked, turning toward Viktor.

"Muggles?" Viktor seemed confused.

"Yes, muggles," Hermione gestured around her, "This is a train station isn't it? Muggles use trains too, so where are they?"

"Oh," Viktor shook his head as he caught on, "Zis is ze vizards platfom. Ze muggles use ze other vone," he pointed off vaguely into the distance. Hermione squinted as she followed his gesture, and could just about make out a large wooden sign bearing a large directional arrow, beside which had been written,

'_Caution: Non-Magical Area Ahead._'

As she watched, the writing on the sign changed, the letters rearranging themselves into a different message. Hermione couldn't read this one, but it was in German by they look of it. A few seconds later, the letters moved again. Hermione recognised the Cyrillic alphabet and assumed that the message must now be in Russian. She nodded to herself as she caught on, the sign was multilingual, and told the same message over and over, just in different languages. This made sense, from what Hermione had read about Sofia, this station was the main point of arrival for all foreign witches and wizards who visited the city. Having the signs in multiple languages was only polite to the tourists.

The sign had changed to what looked like Hieroglyphics by the time Hermione turned away to look at Viktor once more. He smiled and pointed of in the direction of what appeared to be the building's main exit. Hermione nodded and gestured for him to take the lead.

They walked in silence out of the terminal. Hermione let a little distance open between them, enough so that the persistent stares no longer appeared to be aimed at her. Once or twice, Viktor looked over his shoulder as though he was about to say something. Each time, though, Hermione deliberately avoided looking him in the eye, and he would simply close his mouth and turn away again. Hermione felt bad for doing this, it seemed rude, but she didn't have a choice. In her heart, she knew that there was only one conversation that she was capable of having with him, and she just couldn't face that right now.

Thus far, this trip had been nothing like she had expected it to be, to say the least. Only this morning she had been absolutely bursting to talk to Viktor. It had been ages since their last real conversation, and she had been eager to catch up. From what she could see in his face, it appeared that Viktor felt the same way. If he knew there was something wrong other than her being tired, he didn't let on, but it was clear that he was upset and maybe even a little disappointed at her less than enthusiastic reaction to seeing him again. Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for him because of that. He'd been so excited when she had told him that she would finally be accepting his offer to come and stay with him, that the fact that she was only coming because of Dumbledore's order barely seemed to register.

Hurting Viktor, even this much, stung Hermione's heart, but yet, try as she might, she just couldn't bring herself to strike up a conversation with him. Fear kept her silent more than anything else. Fear of making herself look like a complete idiot if this turned out to be nothing but a sick joke on Malfoy's part and, worse still, fear of how much it would hurt for her to hear that was true from Viktor's own lips. She simply couldn't imagine how much that would hurt, and that scared the hell out of her. Still, she couldn't go on like this. Sooner or later she would have to just ask him about the bet. She wouldn't threaten him…she would just ask him. Viktor wouldn't lie to her, not to her face, she felt sure of that. In his heart he was an honourable man, or he believed himself to be at least. He'd tell her the truth if she asked him, even if he damned their friendship in the process.

By the time Viktor held the door open for her to step through into the warm evening air, Hermione had all but worked up the nerve to ask him and get it over with. If that meant that they had to have the entire conversation at the roadside, then so be it.

Once through the door, though, all thoughts of Viktor and the bet vanished from her mind in astonishment. Firstly, there was the car, which Viktor had mentioned with no more aplomb than if he had been referring to a beat up old banger. 'The car' turned out to be a very expensive looking antique town car, the kind that Hermione had only ever seen in the crinkly old movies that her father loved so much. It was matte silver in colour, easily twice as long as a normal car, with an exposed front seat for the driver and an enclosed rear passenger cabin. A chauffeur, dressed from head to toe in pale grey was standing smartly at attention by the rear door, awaiting their approach. Breathtaking as it was though, the car wasn't what surprised her most.

Standing between her and the car, looking thoroughly annoyed, was Malfoy. The reason for his foul expression was immediately clear. A large white bird was perched on his left shoulder and was making a rather concentrated effort to bite his ear off.

"Hedwig?" Hermione exclaimed, recognising Harry's Snowy Owl instantly.

"Hedvig?" Viktor asked her.

"Harry's owl," Hermione answered absently.

"Here," Malfoy said with a scowl, stepping toward Hermione. Hedwig turned to face her and clicked her beak in recognition as Hermione held out her arm. Without hesitation, Hedwig abandoned Malfoy's ear and fluttered from his shoulder. Rather than looking relieved or grateful, Malfoy simply shook his head and then turned smartly at Viktor's request to help him with the bags. Hermione saw the tiniest trace of emotion darken his eyes for an instant when Viktor wasn't looking. That was the second time in fifteen minutes that the mere sight of Viktor had caused that reaction in him and, odd though it was, seeing him react to Viktor's presence like that actually made Hermione feel slightly better about her situation.

Hedwig let out a low warble to attract Hermione's attention. She turned and looked at the bird curiously, "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, gently stroking Hedwig's chest with the back of her finger as both boys moved off to help the chauffeur stow the luggage. Hedwig turned her huge amber eyes to look at Hermione and stuck out her leg as though to answer the question. Hermione looked down and noticed the small parcel that had been tied there. That too was confusing. The parcel must be for her, but what would Harry be sending her?

Hermione undid the parcel and Hedwig shook her wings in thanks. 'Sofia is a long way from Ottery St Catchpole,' Hermione mused, 'the poor thing must be exhausted.'

Resolving to make sure that Hedwig got some food and a good rest before she attempted the return flight, Hermione turned her attention to the package. It was small, about two inches across and less than half an inch thick, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a matte silver ribbon. Hermione had no idea what it was, or why Harry would be sending her a present at all. She looked at Hedwig's other leg, thinking that there may be a note attached to explain, but there was none. Turning the parcel over in her hand, however, she noticed that there was a card attached to it, sealed in a separate envelope that was tucked under the ribbon. Careful not to jostle Hedwig too much, she tugged the envelope free and opened it. Inside, the card read:

'_When in private we come to dream,_

_ In the mirror we set the scene,_

_ Love is a whisper, waiting to be spoken,_

_ Look within to find the token._'

Hermione read the short verse over and over, and at each reading the same thought occurred to her, 'Harry sent this?'

It didn't make any sense to her. Harry simply was not the poetic type. Certainly he hadn't written it, though she didn't recognise it as a quotation. Puzzled, she turned her attention to the parcel. Hedwig clucked at her in annoyance at being shaken as Hermione tore off the paper to reveal yet another mystery in the form of an ornate silver make up case, shaped like an oyster's shell. This again was not like Harry. Why would he buy her make-up? Frowning, Hermione opened it, half expecting it to turn out to be the latest Weasley Wheeze, meant as a joke, but it wasn't. Inside, it was just a normal make-up case, with a polished mirror in the lid and a soft sponge sitting on top of a cake of pale powder. She clicked it shut and turned it over and over in her hand, seeking some sort of justification for the bizarre gift.

"Zat is pretty," Viktor said. Hermione looked up to see him standing beside her once more. Malfoy had already taken his seat in the rear of the car. Viktor leaned over slightly to examine the compact in her hand, "Harry sent it to you?"

"Apparently," Hermione answered, looking once more at the card in her other hand. Then, as though someone had turned on a light in her head, she realised what it was, "I mean yes," she said quickly, trying to hide her surprise, "Yes, Harry sent it to me," she shrugged, "Just a little present."

"Oh," Viktor said, seeming slightly deflated, "Vell," he added, "I haff a little something for you asvell. It iz at home," he seemed mildly annoyed as he said that, "I vas going to give it to you later."

"Oh right," Hermione said, not bothering to pay attention to his male posturing, she kept her mind focussed on double-checking the card and the compact. After a moment, she shook her head at her own stupidity for not realising what it was immediately, and then carefully placed both of them into her pocket. Instantly, a warm sense of contentment washed over her. For the first time since she had set foot on that train, she felt sure of herself.

Viktor looked at her small but solid smile with a curious expression on his face, then he seemed to shake himself, "Shall…ve go then?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, her mind already racing, "I suppose we should."

The chauffer held the door open for them as Hermione clambered into the car. Malfoy seemed to be ignoring her completely now, though she did notice that he was actually watching her reflection in the glass of the window. What was the deal with him?

After a moment's consideration, Hermione opted for the seat opposite Malfoy. She set Hedwig on her knee and smiled down at her, glad to have one genuine friend nearby, if only for a little while. The idea of keeping her around occurred to her, Harry wouldn't mind…she swallowed hard at that thought, but then shunted it aside.

Malfoy turned to look at her as she sat down. He seemed expectant, as though he was waiting for her to say something. Hermione merely returned his gaze as steadily as she could. The car rocked slightly as Viktor climbed inside and settled himself in the seat next to her. This, of course, was to be expected. Hermione looked from one boy to the other, from one problem to another and felt her stomach clench, but just for a moment. Her hand pressed against the lump in her pocket, and she felt herself relax. This trip was not a holiday – she had to keep her priorities straight. Unpleasant conversations would have to wait, because she had a job to do first.

"Nice car, Viktor," she said in a forced cheerful tone.

Viktor smiled wide, "Yes," he said, sounding relieved, "it iz an antique that has been in my family for many years."

"Could be a little roomier though," Hermione jumped slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice. She turned to see him stretch his legs out, crossing his ankles as they came to rest under the seat between Hermione and Viktor.

Viktor looked at Malfoy with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, "Comfortable?" he asked.

Malfoy shrugged and turned his head once more to look out the window. The car fell into silence, Hermione having run out of what little momentum she had built up. There was almost no noise from the engine as the car moved off, pulling out and merging effortlessly with the stream of cars leaving the station. Hedwig, exhausted from her long flight, tucked her head under her wing and slept. Hermione gave her a gentle stroke with her finger and bit her lip nervously.

'Right,' she thought at last as the car swung right onto an arched, stone bridge, 'to business.' "Viktor," she forced her voice to sound more relaxed than she felt, "Did you get the message Professor Dumbledore sent last week?"

Viktor blinked for a moment, but then nodded, "I did."

"And did you managed to speak to Professor Ivanova about it?"

Viktor scowled slightly, "Only wery breivly I'm afraid," he said, "She iz a very busy voman."

"I understand that," Hermione said firmly, "So does Professor Dumbledore, but this is an important matter. Professor Ivanova must see that?"

"Actually," Viktor shrugged, "I'm not sure that she does. Since ze end of ze var, Durmstrang Academy haz been in uproar. Between ze government enquiries into ze alleged Death Eater gatherings in ze castle, and ze criminal accusationz made against half ze staff, ze Professor iz having a hard enough time keeping ze school open at all. To her, taking part in something as trivial as ze Tri-Wizard Tournament hardly seems important," Malfoy made a small noise in the back of his throat at that. Viktor paused and looked over at him. Hermione turned to see him still staring pointedly out of the window. Despite the fact that he clearly knew they were looking at him, Malfoy made no audible comment. After a moment, Viktor continued, "Prestige," he said, "hardly matters when ze wery survival of ze school iz threatened."

Hermione dragged her eyes away from Malfoy, "It isn't about prestige, Viktor," she said, "The war caused a lot of pain and suffering for everyone involved, but it's over now. It's time to heal the wounds."

"Perhaps," Viktor said, "but do you really believe that ze Tri-Wizard Tournament is ze best way to do that? Ze last one ended in disaster after all."

Hermione nodded, remembering how the last tournament had indeed been a disaster. Far from being the great, unifying gesture it had been intend to be, it had instead been a wedge, driving the participating parties even further apart. Indeed, there were those in England to this day that laid the blame for the war getting out of control as it had squarely on the organisers of the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts, the very tournament that had led to a certain betting school…

'No, Hermione,' she thought, 'Stick to the point here!' "But," she said, "that's why holding the tournament again is the perfect way to begin the healing process. It will give people something to look forward to, something to cheer about, something good that they can all share."

"Only if it isn't a repeat of ze last time," Viktor again reminded her.

Hermione had to fight not to roll her eyes. Viktor's ego clearly still carried the scars of losing the last tournament. It had been such a personal investment on his behalf, a means of recovering his lost grace at having lost the Quidditch World Cup final earlier that year. Still, Viktor's personal feelings were hardly relevant to this discussion. "Viktor," Hermione said, letting her voice carry an edge, "The last one failed because of Voldemort, now that he's gone, there is no reason to believe that this one won't go perfectly."

A visible shudder ran through Viktor when he heard Voldemort's name. This was a surprise to Hermione. She had always believed him to be strong enough to be above that silly superstition. Her eyes moved to Malfoy, he had turned to look at her now, but he turned away as soon as he saw her looking. Hermione frowned at him slightly, but put the issue aside, and concentrated instead on Viktor.

"Besides," she said, "this tournament won't be like the last one," she began to tick off her points on her fingers, "We aren't holding it at Hogwarts exclusively, rather we plan on moving the challenges from school to school. The judges for each challenge will be different, and will all be impartial. We are even changing the rules of entry to prevent any form of tampering with the selection of the champions."

"That iz all vell and good," Viktor sighed, "but unfortunately, I am not ze vone that you vill have to convince vith your arguments. Ze final decision vill rest solely vith Professor Ivanova."

"I know," Hermione said, "that's why I'm here, to meet her and present Professor Dumbledore's proposals face to face."

"Yes, I know," Viktor, "Though it still puzzles me. Vy is it dat ze Professor sent you rather zan coming himself?"

'Right,' Hermione couldn't stop herself from thinking, 'As if your government would be about to let Albus Dumbledore make a quiet visit to Durmstrang!' "Well," she shrugged slightly, "He obviously would have liked to, but he just couldn't get away."

"I see," Viktor said, "but, such a proposal vould sound better coming from ze horse's mouth as it ver, don't you agree?"

"He has authorised me to speak for him on this matter," Hermione put on her most confident smile, "I'm sure I can accurately convey his thoughts and wishes to Professor Ivanova."

"Yes, yes," Viktor said quickly, "I am sure you vill."

"When do you expect I can meet her?" she asked.

Now it was Viktor's turn for an evasive shrug, "I do not know," he said, "That is, I am unsure of ven she vill be able to see you vith adequate time to properly hear the details ov your proposal."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Didn't you give Professor Dumbledore your assurance that you could arrange a meeting?"

"I did," Viktor nodded, "and I vill, I give you my vord," Malfoy gave another quiet snort, which Viktor and Hermione both chose to ignore, "It vill just be a matter of patience. Surely you are not so pressed for time for that to be a problem?"

Hermione felt her stomach clench. She knew what he was trying to do. For years he had been trying to get her to come and visit him and, now that she was finally here, he wasn't about to just let her drop in and then vanish. He was dragging his feet in organising this meeting just to keep her here, just so he could…just to spend time with her, she corrected herself, just about managing to stop her treacherous mind from kindling her temper once again. Hermione looked at Viktor and fought the urge to lie to him and tell him that she was indeed in a hurry. The truth of the matter was though, that Professor Dumbledore had given her very specific instructions. She was to come to Bulgaria with this proposal, and stay put until she had seen Professor Ivanova.

The new headmistress of Durmstrang was, just as Viktor had said, a very busy woman. Professor Dumbledore had sent five messages to her over the last two months, requesting a face-to-face meeting, all of which had been refused. Dumbledore, of course, suspected that the refusals had been in part motivated by his current lack of favour in the governmental circles of Europe, where he had been labelled as being responsible for all the damage wrought by the war. Hermione felt a twinge of anger at that. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, but, as Dumbledore had pointed out, there was nothing to be done about it. 'People need a scapegoat,' he had said on more than one occasion, 'they need someone to blame.' If hating me makes them feel even a little better after the trouble of the last few years, then let it be so.'

The peace and calm with which he had said those words still gave Hermione chills to this day. He had accepted the blame for a thousand terrible crimes, which he had not committed, which he had in fact tried with all his might to prevent. Hermione looked at Viktor, he was still waiting for his answer. She shook her head, "No," she said, "no hurry at all."

"Good," Viktor smiled, "I am glad."

Hermione nodded and forced herself to smile. 'Dumbledore,' she told herself, 'do it for Dumbledore.' Her mind turned to the make-up compact in her pocket and her mind settled as she remembered what had brought her here. The Professor had asked her to do this, not out of any desire to lessenthe hatred he was suffering, but out of a genuine desire to help. After all he had done, after all he had given for others, he was still giving? Viktor, with his fame and personal influence, was her only link to Professor Ivanova, and if she had to put up with her nagging doubts about him while pretending everything was fine in order to get the job done, then that is precisely what she would do. It would be hard, but she'd do it, somehow.

Malfoy uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs before her. In doing so, his foot brushed against hers. Hermione turned to look at him. He was looking back at her, with no expression on his face whatsoever. The light streaming through the window beside him caught his eyes and made them sparkle for a moment. Hermione took a breath as he stared at her, and felt her tension ease a little as though he was drawing it out of her. He continued to stare at her until, believing him to be waiting for something, she gave him a tiny nod. Malfoy returned the nod, the gesture almost unnoticeable, and then turned to the window once again. Hermione turned to look outside too.

The city had fallen away gradually, the tightly packed buildings had given way to wide open spaces and tree covered country lanes. As they made their way down a wide, empty road, lined with ancient looking oak trees, Hermione was astonished to see what looked like a rudimentary Quidditch pitch erected beside a towering, four storey house that looked more like a castle to her eyes. At least a dozen teenagers were on broomsticks, zooming back and forth above the pitch, thoroughly engrossed in their game, despite being in plain sight of the road.

"Only vizards live here," Viktor said behind her, "The more vealthy vones at least," he continued as she turned back to him, "Ven ze muggles tried to seize all ze land from the vealthy fifty years ago, ve all moved here. This entire area," he gestured around him, "iz protected from muggle interference, in much ze same vay as your Hogvarts iz."

"Oh right," Hermione said, "So, you live round here then?"

Viktor nodded to the window. Hermione turned to see, as if on cue, that they were slowing down and turning off the road into a short driveway. She couldn't see the house that stood beyond them though. Craning her neck, she could just about make out the winding gravel driveway as it snaked up and over a small hillock.

"Velcome, at last, to my home," Viktor said as the car crested the hill and carried on down the other side. Viktor's house came into view, but all that Hermione saw was a vast, black shadow set against the setting sun. Hermione couldn't stop herself from tensing as he laid his hand warmly on her shoulder. Her eyes darted to Malfoy, who was now looking very hard out of the window. The car slowed, coming to a stop in the shadow of the house. Almost before they had stopped, Viktor was out the door and had turned to offer Hermione his hand as she alighted.

Hermione looked at his hand for a moment, and swallowed, "Here," she said, "Can you hold Hedwig for a tick?"

Hermione gently roused Hedwig and then set her carefully onto Viktor's waiting arm. Malfoy wordlessly withdrew his legs so that she could pass. Hermione couldn't help but take a sideways look at him as she climbed out of the car. His eyes were still on the window, looking out now at the unadorned lawn of the hill that hid Viktors's home from the road. Shaking her head slightly, she stepped out onto the gravel of the driveway dusted herself off before reaching out to take Hedwig back. Viktor moved off to speak to the driver, who had busied himself at the rear of the car, leaving Hermione momentarily alone to get her first real look at his house, and a memorable look it was.

Looking up at the house, Hermione was forced to conclude that it was, on first impression, the single most hideous building that she had ever seen. Before her, two black oak doors, lined with heavy iron studs stood closed. One look at them and you instantly knew that this place was not a place where weakness was tolerated. The doors were set into a massive granite façade that stood a full thirty feet tall, reinforcing the image of sheer, brute strength. The solid blocks of raw stone that made up the wall were fitted together at jagged and awkward looking angles, giving the impression that they house had not been built so much as it had been rather clumsily carved out of a single, massive lump of rock. Hermione's eyes followed the arched line of the doorway and upward to the focal point of the façade, to where all attempts at subtlety had been abandoned.

Standing atop of the wall, was an immense, imposing stone gargoyle, carved into the image of a raging Minotaur. Hermione shuddered as she looked into its dead, black eyes. She remembered Viktor telling her that the image of the bull headed man was part of his family heritage, but, as she looked at the face of that image, twisted into a look of pure rage, she couldn't fathom why anyone would cling to such a heritage.

Dragging her eyes away from the Minotaur, Hermione stepped back and attempted to take in the rest of the house. On either side of the central façade, the wings of the house, again carved out of raw granite, swept outward and forward, ending on either side of the hill in identical raised towers, each capped by a single stone bull.

Hermione turned and realised that Viktor had returned. He was clearly expecting some comment from her. She cleared her throat and said, "It's…lovely," the word almost caught in her throat.

Viktor chuckled at her, "You do not lie vell," he patted her on the back before stepping forward, "Ze house is most certainly not pretty. It iz ze end result of my late grandfaser's attempt to 'express himself'," he paused and shook his head, "He dezined and built eversing you see, just bevore he died. That voz almost forty yearz ago, and fazer vill not hear of changing it."

"That's his grandfather's idea self expression?" Hermione jumped slightly as Malfoy whispered in her ear, she hadn't realised he was behind her, "What's that?" he said, clearly meaning the Minotaur, "A self portrait?"

Despite herself, Hermione felt the corner of her lip twitch slightly. She managed not to smile, but it was a close thing.

Viktor opened the door with a grand flourish and then turned back to face them. "Come," he said, gesturing them inside, "Gregor vill take care of ze bags."

The chauffeur, Gregor, Hermione assumed, was still thoroughly engaged in emptying the boot of the car. She took one step forward and then stopped as, with one look at the house, Hedwig took off from her arm and made for the nearest clump of trees. Hermione watched her go and found herself hoping that she wasn't going far. She suddenly felt alone again.

Just as the owl banked around the easternmost end of the house and disappeared from sight, Malfoy pressed up against her and placed a hand gently but firmly on the small of her back. She shivered at his touch, but didn't resist as he ushered her into motion. He followed behind her as they passed through the doors and entered the main foyer.

"This," Malfoy whispered in her ear as they came to a halt inside, "is overkill!" Looking around at the décor, Hermione was inclined to agree with his statement. It appeared that the Viktor's grandfather had decorated the inside of the house as well. Everywhere she looked she saw bulls. There were statues, paintings, and tapestries all around her. Beneath her feet, the tiles mosaic on the floor depicted a stylised set of golden bullhorns, set against a sea of black. The image was again repeated in the two great, curving staircases that rose before them, framing the central corridor ahead that seemed to stretch on forever. The tapering gold handrails on either stair caught the sunlight that streamed in from the high windows set into the cupola above, blinding the entering visitor and burning the bull horns into their eyes, and their memories.

For his part, Viktor didn't appear to have any opinion about the distinct Taurean overdose that the house had received. He strode ahead of them, giving them a brief rundown of the history of the house. He seemed to be warming up for a full tour, something that didn't appeal to Hermione at all. Her excuse about being tired had not been entirely untrue, and the dull ache in her head had persisted throughout their car journey. Just when he was about to say something, Viktor turned to face both herself and Malfoy.

"But…vat am I thinking? You are both tired, and I doubt you have any interest in my ramblings about my home."

Malfoy shrugged and made no comment. Hermione, however, felt compelled to speak, "No, Viktor, it isn't that we aren't interested…"

"Please," Viktor waved her down, "It iz ok, I understand. Ve can save the tour for the morning, yes? Ven you are better rested?"

Hermione was about to argue, but then realised that he had said just what she was going to say. "Ok then," she said with a smile.

Viktor nodded, "Very vell," he paused as though an idea had just occurred to him, "Perhaps you vould enjoy a nightcap? Something to settle ze nerves and help you sleep better?"

Hermione opened her mouth to decline this offer immediately, but Malfoy was quicker than her, "Sounds good," he said, sounding genuine for the first time since they had left the train.

Viktor nodded and turned to Hermione. She still had a mind to object, but, facing two opponents now instead of one, she decided that it would be simpler and easier to simply agree rather than argue the point. So she nodded and allowed Viktor to lead her by the arm as they set off down the long corridor. Malfoy walked a step behind them, and to Hermione's surprise, he struck up a conversation with Viktor, sounding airy and even cheerful. Hermione gave up trying to figure him out. She didn't speak to either of them as Viktor led them down the hallway to a warm, cosy little study.

Along the way, she paid just enough attention to the conversation going on around her to learn that Viktor's parents were taking an extended holiday, touring around the Far East for the summer. Viktor hadn't heard from them in some time it seemed, but he wasn't concerned about their safety in the least. Apparently, it was normal for members of his family to be totally out of touch with one another for long periods when they were apart. Malfoy seemed to accept this without question, but it did strike her as odd. In her family, things were very different. Her parents had always kept in regular contact with her when she was at school, and she with them. That was what families were supposed to do in her mind, though apparently, that was not what they all did.

On a normal day, Hermione would have been very interested in the subject of Viktor's family; he had never spoken of them in his letters. Today, however, was not a normal day. She was bewildered, she was confused and she was hurt, but above all right now, she was tired. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and have an end to this horrible day. Before that, however, she had to endure what seemed to be an interminable conversation about everything from the state of the trans-European rail system, to the new range of brooms on offer from the Nimbus Company. All of this while she sipped on her drink, which turned out to be wine. She scowled slightly as she tasted it, realising that she had come full circle, this being where her problems had started.

Malfoy's earlier foul mood seemed to have vanished the second that alcohol had been mentioned. Twenty minutes ago, he had been acting as though he was utterly disgusted to be here, and now he looked as though he was having the time of his life. His ability to switch mental gears so smoothly when it suited him both impressed and annoyed her immensely. She found herself staring at him when he wasn't looking at her. How could he be so at ease here all of a sudden? She had seen the look on his face earlier, one of pure, undiluted hatred. How could he bury that so completely? How dare he be able to do that?

As she watched him, Malfoy raised his nearly empty glass to his lips, but Viktor put out a hand and stopped him from drinking. Turning to Hermione, he raised his own glass, "A toast," he said, and then waited for Hermione and Malfoy to raise theirs before he spoke again, "To old friends," he said, his eyes never straying from Hermione.

Putting on a forced smile and fighting past the dull ache in her head, Hermione nodded her acceptance of the toast, and then drained the last of her glass in one go. The wine swirled around inside her mouth before she swallowed. It seemed to start a small fire in her stomach, spreading heat through her whole body. She was put instantly in mind of being curled up in a comfy blanket in front of a warm fire, with not a care in the world and all the time she needed to sleep…just to sleep.

"Vell then," Viktor clapped his hands together, rousing her slightly, "I suppose it iz time vor both of you to rest. Come," he offered Hermione his arm, "I vill show you to your rooms."

Hermione looked at his arm and, blinking hard, she accepted it and allowed Viktor to help her out of the chair. The journey from the study to the room Viktor had prepared for her seemed to last forever. At each step, she had to stifle a yawn. There may have been further conversation between Malfoy and Viktor, but she didn't take any of it in. At last, Viktor stopped outside a doorway and declared that they had reached their destination. He showed her inside, pointing out the location of the bathroom and the wardrobes, which now contained her belongings. She spotted her document bag sitting, with the flap open, at the end of the bed. It had clearly been opened and the contents examined. That should have sparked a reaction in her, it was an invasion of her privacy after all, but her head was so fuzzy with exhaustion that she couldn't bring herself to even mention it. It was all she could do to bid Viktor and Malfoy goodnight, and then stumble to the bed before her legs gave way beneath her.

Hermione crawled to the head of the bed and knocked a wrapped package aside, the present Viktor had mentioned earlier. She would open it later, she thought, much later. Right now, all she could focus on was how soft the bed was beneath her, and how much she wanted to roll over and sleep. The last image she saw before the world slipped away was her own reflection in the dressing table mirror, staring sleepily back at her.


	2. Through the Peephole

"Wake up!" a distant voice called out of the void. Hermione ignored it, it didn't matter who it was or what they wanted, she was not waking up. Hell, she had only just fallen asleep, what could possibly be so important? "WAKE UP!" the voice called again, nearer and louder this time. Hermione screwed her eyes shut against the intrusion and tried to turn away from the sound. Firm hands grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her awake hard enough to rattle her teeth. Her eyes flew open, but the world around her was too dark for her to make out anything but an inky blur. There was no sunlight in the room anymore, more time must have passed while she slept than she realised.

"Mmmwha…" she mumbled, unable to force herself to speak properly.

She felt herself being hauled upright none too gently, and then shaken again. Something cold and hard was pressed almost painfully against her lips, and then she felt a stream of warm, sweet liquid pour into her mouth. Instinctively she pulled away and tried to spit whatever it was out again, but she didn't get far before she felt a hand clamp hard over her mouth and nose.

"Swallow it," the voice came again, this time as a whisper in her ear. Fear sparked in her mind. Swallow it? Swallow what? What was it in her mouth? She didn't know, and she didn't care. Seven years in Hogwarts had taught her one universal truth about potions, and that was if you don't know what it was you were drinking, then you did not swallow it. Now here she was, alone in the dark with god knows who trying to force heaven knows what down her throat, and she'd be damned if that was happening without a fight. Hermione tried to turn round to face the speaker, but the grip on her mouth held her firmly in place. Her hands reached out and tried to shove whoever it was off her, but her arms didn't seem to possess the strength required for the task.

What was going on? Who was doing this to her? And why? Why couldn't they just leave her alone so that she could get some sleep? All she wanted to do was sleep. She'd be right again if she could only sleep. She was so tired. Even now, even as she fought for air and struggled to free herself from her unknown assailant, she felt the warm tingle of drowsiness spread though her. Her eyelids grew heavy and started to droop closed again.

The hand over her mouth squeezed her tighter as the voice came again, "Hermione…swallow it."

Hearing her name rang a bell in Hermione's head. Her attacker knew her name. Whoever it was, they knew her, which meant that she was being betrayed again! Why? What had she done to deserve this? She felt a single tear drop out of her eye and splash down onto her cheek as she shut her eyes and gave in. She didn't want to do it, but she had no choice. She couldn't run and she wasn't strong enough to fight. Her only choice was to do as she had been told, it was that or suffocate.

The liquid in her mouth burned cold as she forced herself to swallow it. She gagged a little, but felt the potion settle in her stomach as she braced herself against whatever effect it might have. She didn't have long to wait. A sudden chill came over her, starting from her stomach and spreading rapidly outward to the rest of her body. The hand over her mouth released her and Hermione slumped back onto the bed.

The lamp beside the bed sparked into life. Light flared in the darkness, blinding her. Hermione reeled and turned away, but found herself caught by the shoulders once again and held firmly in place. She shook her head and tried to force her vision to clear as she turned to look at the face of her assailant. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, but when it did…

"Malfoy?" she said in astonishment. Her mind raced to assemble the details, trying to sort out just what the hell was going on. "What the…" she stammered hoarsely, "What did you just…"

"Shh." Malfoy shook his head and reached out to her bedside table. He picked up what Hermione recognised as the same wine bottle he had plied her with on the train. She watched in stunned disbelief as he carefully poured the remaining contents of the bottle into a tall, crystal goblet. He picked up the glass and then turned and held it out to her. Hermione's eyes moved from the glass to Malfoy and back again. What? Did he want her to take it? Did he think she was about to share a quiet drink with him after he had just…what the hell had he just done? Hadn't she just been asleep? Had it been a dream? Thoughts slipped and slid about inside her mind. Concentration became difficult once more. She shook her head in an attempt to free her thoughts, but it didn't seem to work. She needed rest. If only Malfoy would just go away and leave her in peace to get some sleep…

"Drink this," Malfoy's voice was quieter now, "It will help." Hermione could only stare at him, unable to speak. Rage, fear and confusion struggled for dominance inside her mind. Malfoy shuffled closer to her and took her hand. He placed the glass between her fingers and then reached up and laid his hand on her cheek. "Drink it, Hermione," he said carefully, "and you'll feel better."

Malfoy's thumb moved gently across her face, his stare remained fixed and calm. Looking at him, she felt herself calm slightly and then, before she knew it, she had raised the glass to her lips and taken a sip. The wine slid down her throat and settled in her stomach, sending a second wave of ice through her body. The sensation refreshed her; it seemed to lift the fog in her mind. She sipped again, with the same result. Gradually, the scattered parts of her mind began to reassemble themselves and she started to come to.

"Better?" Malfoy asked her, still staring into her eyes.

Hermione looked at him, and nodded slowly. Malfoy returned her nod and stood up from the bed. He examined the empty wine bottle briefly before setting it down on the table and walking away toward the window. Hermione watched him go for a moment, and then turned her attention to the glass in her hand. It wasn't just wine she was drinking, that much was clear. What exactly it was, though, was another matter.

"You should really drink that," Malfoy said. Hermione looked up to see him standing with his back to her at the window, looking out. "It really will make you feel better."

"What is it?" she asked him, setting the glass down beside the bottle. "What did you just give me?"

"Just a little pick-me-up," he said idly. "Something I threw together," he paused for a moment, and then added, "just for you."

Something he 'threw together'? The bastard had drugged her! "What?" the word exploded out of Hermione.

"Oh calm down, Granger," Malfoy waved her down. He dug around in his pocket and took something out, which he examined on the palm of his hand in the moonlight while muttering under his breath.

"Calm down?" Hermione spat the question at him as she turned on the bed and made to stand up. "You want me to….whoa!" No sooner had only just gotten to her feet, when a wave of dizziness crashed over her and her legs buckled. Hermione let out a quiet moan and slumped back down onto the bed.

"Careful," Malfoy admonished her. "Don't rush yourself," he glanced back over his shoulder, "Drink that!" he repeated the command.

"Why?" Hermione asked in rage, "Why should I drink it? What did you put in it?"

"I already told you," Malfoy answered, still staring intently at the little object in his palm, "It's just something to clear away the cobwebs."

"You'll have to do better than that, Malfoy." Hermione's hand dug into her pocket and pulled out her wand. "You'll have to do a lot better," she said, taking aim at the back of his head.

Malfoy didn't react to this in the slightest. He still had his back turned and his attention fully **on** whatever it was he was doing. Hermione kept her wand aimed at him and struggled in vain to stop her hand from shaking. Finally, after a long silence, he let out a quiet sigh and shook his head slightly. He slowly lowered his hand and returned whatever it was to his pocket. Hermione watched him, waiting and ready for him to draw his wand on her. When he didn't move, she frowned, and was about to say something to him when, in a sudden blur of movement, he rounded on her, his wand suddenly and inexplicably in his hand.

A flash of red light filled the room and Hermione felt something hard slam into her wrist, knocking her wand from her grasp. She heard it clatter to the floor while she was left to stare, dumbstruck, at Malfoy as he advanced on her like a predator moving in for the kill. He stopped short, a mere three feet from her, close enough so that she could see every shallow breath he took, every twitch in his expression. She watched his jaw clench and relax over and over, and she saw the tension flash behind his eyes. She even thought that she could see his pulse thump in the side of his neck as he stood frozen in place before her.

Malfoy glared at her over the tip of his wand, still breathing hard as he spoke. "I do not like being threatened, Granger," he said slowly and carefully, seeming to strain over every word.

Hermione watched him she saw the burning anger in his face and the cold fire in his eyes, and yet, for some reason that she couldn't explain, she felt no fear whatsoever. She did feel anger though, drawing herself up as much as she could, she said, "And I don't like being drugged, Malfoy."

He stared at her for a moment more after she said those words and then, with a tiny snort, he lowered his wand. "Is that a fact?" he said, shaking his head, "Well then you should probably have a word with your boyfriend downstairs."

Hermione blinked at him. "What are you…"

"Krum was the one that drugged you, Granger, not me," Malfoy paused while his words settled into her mind, "You remember that little nightcap he offered us oh so politely?"

Hermione stared at him, too confused to argue the point. "Yes," she answered quietly.

"And how did you feel after you drank it?"

Hermione thought back. She remembered the car ride to the house, Viktor proposing a toast, she recalled drinking her glass of wine and then… "Tired," she said slowly, "I felt tired."

"I'm not surprised you did," said Malfoy sarcastically. "There was enough sleeping potion in the glass he gave me to level a rhinoceros. I imagine yours was the same."

Hermione struggled to process this. Not content with attacking Viktor's motives for liking her in the past, Malfoy was now saying that Viktor had gone through the whole charade of offering them a nightcap, just so he could drug the pair of them into unconsciousness? It didn't make sense. What could he possibly hope to gain from doing that? Why would he even consider doing that to them…to her? "Why?" The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She knew it was pointless there could be no way for Malfoy to know the answer to it.

He apparently felt the same way. Laughing out loud, he spread his arms wide and said, "Beats me," he lowered his arms and looked down at her, "I was hoping that you would know the answer to that one actually."

"What?" she asked in disbelief, "How should I know why Viktor would do something like that?"

"Well I had rather assumed that it had something to do with why Dumbledore sent you…sent us here. Unless," he raised an eyebrow at her, "you are still going to pretend that this is all about a stupid tournament?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. What the hell was he talking about? "I'm not pretending that this is anything, Malfoy. It is about the tournament, and it is most certainly NOT stupid. Professor Dumbledore asked me to…"

"Save it, Granger," Draco lowered himself onto his haunches, bring his head down to her level, "Look, when Dumbledore explained this 'assignment' to me, I knew that I wasn't getting the full story. I was perfectly well aware that there was a whole lot more to it than what he was telling me, and I was ok with that, I really was," he shook his head and laughed quietly, "I mean, since when does Dumbledore ever tell you the whole story straight out?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Now," he said, his tone changing, becoming harder, "I was content to come along on this mission, and to keep an eye on you while you did whatever it was that you really came here to do. I had accepted that I may well have never known precisely what your mission here was, but that was before people started drugging me."

"Viktor didn't…" Hermione started, still unwilling to believe what Malfoy was telling her.

"Viktor DID," he said over her. "He drugged me and he drugged you, and he was in a big hurry to do it as well. That leads me to believe that, whatever it is that's going on here, it's a hell of a lot bigger than organising a bloody tournament. Krum clearly wanted to get one or both of us out of the way tonight for some reason, and I want to know why, Granger. What the hell is it that Dumbledore has gotten us into?"

Hermione paused and took a breath before she answered him. She could hear his temper bubbling just below his words and she didn't want him to lose control altogether. "Malfoy," she started carefully, "You're upset, I understand that, but you have to listen to me. There is no big secret. My mission is to deliver Professor Dumbledore's proposals to Professor Ivanova, nothing else…really."

Malfoy watched her closely as she spoke, as though he was searching for a lie behind her words. In the end he nodded. "Fine then," he said, standing up and turning away, "If you won't tell me, I guess I'll just have to find out for myself."

"What? Hermione exclaimed in alarm, "No wait, where…" she tried again to get to her feet, "Where are you going?"

Her second attempt at standing was no more successful than the first. Again, the moment that she stood upright, her head started to whirl and her knees gave way from under her. She stumbled and fell forward. The hard floor rushed toward her, there would be no soft landing this time. In an instant, Malfoy was in front of her. Her head bounced off his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist and took her weight.

"Easy there," he whispered in her ear as he lifted her upright and then gently lowered her onto the bed once more.

"S…sorry," she muttered.

Malfoy sat her down on the mattress and then knelt in front of her. His hands maintained an ever so slight hold on her hips. "Take it easy," he said softly, "You haven't completely gotten over the sleeping potion yet."

"I…I guess not," Hermione reached up to wipe at the sudden sweat that had appeared on her brow. A sudden thought occurred to her, "Hold on," she turned to frown down at Malfoy, "How is it that you got over it so easily?" she shook herself hard, trying to make sense of things, "Didn't you say that your drink was drugged too?"

"I did," Malfoy nodded, and then smiled, "But unlike you, I know when to take my medicine." He reached out and took up the half full glass from the table and held it to her lips, "Drink it," he said it quietly, and this time, Hermione didn't resist as he tipped the entire contents of the glass into her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the now familiar cold tingle run through her. The world around her shifted, coming into sharper focus somehow; she no longer felt tired and weary.

As Malfoy lowered the glass, the answer finally hit her. "A counter-potion? You turned the wine into a counter-agent, didn't you?"

"Very good, Granger," Malfoy gave her a small smile, "Take ten house points."

Hermione frowned. "But," she said, "For that to work, you would have had to drink it before Viktor…before we were drugged, but," her frown deepened, "that would mean that you had the counter-potion on the train…which means that you must have known that Viktor was going to drug us…"

"That is a logical conclusion," Malfoy said as he set the glass back onto the table.

"But," she stared at him, "how?"

"Like I said," Malfoy answered, "I knew there was more to this trip than Dumbledore was letting on…"

"But, no, come on…" Hermione tried to interrupt him.

"And," Malfoy continued regardless, "I also had my reasons to question Krum's motives in inviting us to stay with him," he paused for a moment as his eyes darkened, "Now," he continued, shaking off the moment of emotion, "I'd be lying if I said that I _knew_ that he was going to try and drug…us tonight, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. So I laced a couple of bottles of Chateau Merlin with a broad based constitution enhancer, strong enough to counter all but the strongest incapacitation draughts, and brought them along for the journey."

"Wasn't that dangerous?" Hermione asked. She knew the kind of potion that Malfoy was describing. They reinforced the mind and body against external detriments, such as poisons and spells, and could be very useful in the right circumstances. They were very tricky things though, if the dosage wasn't carefully measured, or if no sufficient threat presented itself within a certain amount of time, then there could be some nasty side effects. "If we hadn't been drugged…" she started.

"Then we may have had a problem," Malfoy finished for her, "but not one that would be all that hard to solve. I figured it was worth the risk."

Hermione goggled at him. "You figured? And what about me? Shouldn't I have had a say?"

"Maybe," Malfoy shrugged, "but things were simpler this way. How do you feel now?"

Hermione let her anger build. "Fine," she said through her teeth, "Strong enough to wring your neck at least."

"Good," Malfoy ignored the threat, "Back to normal then…" he tailed off and fished once again inside his pocket for his little trinket. On closer inspection, Hermione saw that he was holding what looked like a small coat button, plain black in colour, with no mark or adornment whatsoever.

"What is that thing?" she asked him, seeing him once again devoting all his attention to it.

"Just a little toy I dreamt up," he answered, "Here, have a look," he passed the button to Hermione. She took it on the palm of her hand and looked down at it. It was, as she had thought, a small, black button, one that could easily have been pulled from a jacket or cardigan. What possible use Malfoy could have for such a thing she had no idea. It wasn't the sort of thing she would have expected to find in his pocket. She looked up to see him smiling at her bewildered expression. "Turn it over," he said through his grin.

Confusion was nothing new to Hermione today, and so, despite her annoyance at Malfoy's annoying grin, she decided to comply. She looked down and flipped the button over with a twitch of her hand. "Nothing," she said, "it's just a button."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still grinning.

Hermione scowled, and was about ready to draw out and punch Malfoy on the nose when he leaned down and whispered the word, "Occulus," over the coin. Hermione frowned, and gasped aloud when she realised that she could now see straight through her hand!

She blinked, thinking it must be her imagination, a side effect of whatever it was she had taken earlier, but the hole remained despite her efforts. Hermione stared at it, and then gasped again when she noticed that it was getting bigger. The button was slowly vanishing before her eyes, peeling back and taking her flesh with it. Her mouth hung open in astonishment and she instinctively clutched at her wrist in fear and panic. Yet there was no pain, she felt no sensation at all as she watched. As far as she could feel, there wasn't anything different at all about her hand at all

The hole continued to grow larger and larger until there was no sign of the button at all anymore, just a perfectly circular void where her palm should be.

She looked at Malfoy, who was still staring at her with a huge grin on his face. "See anything familiar?" he asked.

The question astounded Hermione. See anything familiar on the palm of her own hand? Yes, of course she did. What wasn't familiar was the piece that had just vanished. She looked back down, and had just about managed to recover the power of speech when she noticed something odd. Her hand was over her lap and, now that it had been pierced right through, she should, logically (if that word had any meaning to her anymore), be able to see her legs through it, but she couldn't. There was no trace of her jeans to be seen in the dark little hole. Come to think of it, the hole itself was wrong too, it was too dark.

The lamplight in the room was more than enough for her to be able to see everything around her clearly, and yet, within the hole, all was dark. Well, not quite all. Hermione noticed on inspection that, if she squinted really hard, she could just about make out a tiny glowing strip at the bottom of the hole, and another near the top. There was also a small shiny…something at about the centre of the hole, if a little to the right. Her brain triumphantly announced what it had decided she was looking at, but the rest of Hermione was reluctant to accept it. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that she was looking at… "A door?"

"Right," Malfoy answered, "a door."

Hermione squinted at the dark spot on her hand. Slowly, and with deliberate caution, she lifted her finger toward it. Malfoy reached out quickly and stopped her.

"I wouldn't," he said sharply, "The charm is rather fragile."

"Charm?" Hermione blinked at him, "What is this thing?" she asked.

"You are looking," Malfoy said, "At the very door behind which Viktor Krum currently resides. It's the door to the study we were in earlier, and this," he reached out and gently took up the button, leaving Hermione's hand totally unmarked, "this," he said, turning the button round and round in his fingers, "is called a Peephole. Nifty little things, aren't they? Very handy if you want to keep an eye on certain places without being seen."

"Erm…yeah," Hermione blinked, "How do they work?"

"Simple really," Malfoy said, "You need two of them…"

"Two buttons?"

"No," he shook his head, "They can be anything you like, so long as they are small and easy not to notice. They work in pairs, a Seer and a Viewer, one sees, the other shows. You just drop the Seer near to the place that you want to keep an eye on, then all you need to do is keep the Viewer handy and you can watch what happens from a safe distance, miles away if need be."

"So this," Hermione took the button back, mentally joining the dots, "is a Viewer, and the Seer is…"

"Downstairs in the corridor outside Krum's study," Malfoy finished for her, "After he 'put us to bed'," he scowled slightly as he said those words, "I waited long enough to let him think I was out, and then I went looking for him," he scowled again at that point, "I nearly kicked myself when I realised that he'd gone back to the very room we'd just been in, I could have dropped the Seer in there had I known…kept a real eye on him, but as it is…this will have to do."

"Do?" Hermione asked, "Do for what? I told you, Malfoy, there isn't anything going on here other than what you've been told."

Malfoy gave her an admonishing look. "Ok then," he said through a sigh, "Why don't YOU tell ME then, why Krum spiked our drinks…"

"Well…" Hermione struggled to come up with a valid answer. She didn't want to believe that Viktor had drugged her, but the fact that she was still unsure whether or not her legs worked was proof enough for her to be sure that someone had. There were only two possibilities, it had either been Viktor, or it had been Malfoy, and Malfoy had just given her the antidote had he not?

So, Viktor had drugged her…and Malfoy too, why? What possible reason could he have? "Maybe," she said, "maybe he just wanted us to get a good nights rest…" Even as she said it, she knew how flimsy it sounded.

Malfoy clearly agreed. "Yeah, right, he's a real gent, so very good to his houseguests…"

"Look, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, "I don't need you being sarcastic about this alright? You asked for a reasonable explanation, and I gave you one."

"Yes, you did, but tell me," he leaned in close to her, "do you believe that explanation…even for a second?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but then shut it again just as quickly. The ugly truth of the matter was that she didn't believe her explanation. She couldn't bear to tell Malfoy that, however, so she didn't answer at all.

It seemed however, that her silence was just as good as an answer to Malfoy. "I didn't think so," he said smugly. He stood and moved off toward the door.

"Alright," Hermione said, attempting to stand for the third time, and managing it on this try, though she was still somewhat shaky, "I'll admit that Viktor's behaviour warrants an explanation, but," she turned to face him as he returned, holding her wand, "I don't think that, just because he did something…odd…that that has to automatically mean that there's some big plot going on here."

"And I choose to believe that there is something going on here," Malfoy rounded on her, "Whether plot is the right word or not, I don't know, but," he held out her wand to her, "how about we stop this bickering and find out?"

Hermione accepted her wand and let out an aggravated sigh. "Fine!" she exhaled, and made to stuff her wand into her jeans pocket. Her hand brushed against a cold, hard lump on its way into her pocket however, and her mind called a halt to proceedings, "Hold on," she said aloud.

"What?" Malfoy hissed. He had moved over to the door, clearly intending for them to go exploring Viktor's house in search of this great mystery he was so convinced existed, "What's wrong now?" he asked, stepping back to her once again.

Hermione scowled at him as she extracted the make-up case from her pocket and held it up to him. "This," she said. Malfoy believed that her mission here was more than he had been told? That she was keeping the truth from him? Well then, she'd show him, and then maybe there would be an end to his paranoia.

Malfoy's expression blanked as he saw the compact. "What the fuck, Granger? You seriously want me to wait here while you slap on a touch of rouge to hide those cheekbones of yours?"

"Oh grow up, idiot," Hermione shot at him, "This isn't just a make-up case, this is the package that Hedwig delivered earlier, remember?"

"Right, sorry," he apologised sarcastically. Hermione shook her head and busied herself with examining the compact, "So it's a make-up case that Potty sent you," Malfoy all but snarled, "So fucking what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes…men!

"Here, genius," she said, holding the card that had come with the compact out for Malfoy to take, "Read this."

Malfoy took the card and read it, his brow furrowed as he looked at it, and then at Hermione. "So Pot-head is getting poetic in his old age…I'm still not following you here."

"Oh for the love of…" Hermione exclaimed. "What is it with you, Malfoy? Are you really this thick, or do you just like to play dumb to impress girls?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," said Hermione, snatching the note back, "that, if you had bothered to get past your ego, and your total dislike of Harry, you may have noticed that this note is not from him at all."

"It isn't?" Malfoy asked, seeming a little taken aback.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated, "Seriously, do you see Harry writing this?"

Malfoy looked at the note in her hand once again, and then shook his head. "Actually, now that you mention it, no…not without you around at least…to help him with the big words."

Hermione glared for a moment, but decided to let it pass. "Right then…now, if Harry didn't send it, then can you take a guess as to who did?"

Malfoy again examined the card, and then looked up in surprise. "Dumbledore?"

"Well done Malfoy," Hermione sneered at him, "Take five house points."

Malfoy tensed. "Hey, no fair, I gave you ten!"

"Yes," said Hermione, suppressing a grin, "But you didn't have to spoon feed me the answer."

Malfoy crossed his arms. "Is that so? Well in that case, perhaps you can 'spoon feed' me some more then, and tell me what the message means?"

"I have no idea," Hermione shrugged, "I haven't heard it yet."

Malfoy frowned. "Excuse me? You're holding it in your hand."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I am, but," he held up the note, "this isn't the message," she lowered her hand and raised the other one, the one that held the compact, "this is."

"That?"

"Yes."

"Is a make-up case?"

"It is."

"But, you're saying that it's also a message?"

"Yes."

"From Dumbledore?"

"Right."

"To you?"

"Uh huh."

"About your mission?"

At this, Hermione paused, she had no idea what the message was about, but Malfoy's guess seemed to make sense. "Probably," she shrugged, "it's most likely some additional details that he forgot to tell me before we left, so he sent them on with Hedwig."

Malfoy frowned. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why? If this message is nothing more important than a few last minute details, then why send them like that? Why not just write a note instead of…of whatever he did with that make-up case? And why use Potter's owl?"

"I…" she paused, thinking about it now, it was a fair point, but, "well, Professor Dumbledore did tell me that this whole tournament is supposed to be kept quiet until its all arranged, just in case it doesn't work out. "So, she turned the compact over in her hands, "he sent the message in code."

Malfoy paused to consider this. "I dunno," he said, his lips pursed in contemplation, "it still seems like a bit much for me…for him to go to so much trouble over something so trivial, and don't" he waved Hermione's interruption aside, "don't tell me its not trivial, you know what I meant. Whether it's important or not, this tournament of his is not exactly an earth shatteringly huge secret, is it?"

"Well…no, but…" she began.

"Exactly," Malfoy cut her off, "so why go to all this trouble to come up with a way to disguise such a harmless message?"

"That's just it though," Hermione shook her head, "That's where you're wrong. Dumbledore didn't go to any trouble at all; he already knew how to code the message. He used a method that we came up with during the war…Interlocking Charms."

Malfoy's eyebrow arched. "We?"

"Well," Hermione blushed a little, "I say we, but it was really Dumbledore who came up with the idea of course," she paused as a thought occurred to her, "You don't know about Interlocking Charms, do you?" Malfoy looked at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "Oh," she paused, "Well…I'm not sure how many people did really, other than the members of the Order, of course…but," she paused, seeing the odd look on Malfoy's face, "they're simple enough to explain," she said hastily, "You know of course that, during the war, we needed a way for members of the Order to send messages to one another?"

"That makes…some sense," he answered sarcastically.

"Yes," she said, ignoring his tone, "well, like so much else, communication was something that got harder and harder as the war went on. By the end, we were estimating that only one in ten messages were able to get through the normal channels without being intercepted by the enemy…"

"I remember, Granger," Malfoy sounded a little tired now, "I was there, you know?"

Hermione scowled at him. "Well then, you should also know that Dumbledore figured out a way to make them safer, and you shouldn't need to have it explained," she folded her arms across her chest, if he wanted to play games, fine!

Malfoy shook his head and sighed. "Alright…alright," he said, "I'm sorry, please go on…"

Hermione blinked, it occurred to her that, while that wasn't the first time that she'd heard him use those words, it was the first time they'd been directed at her. What was more, he actually seemed to mean them; this was definitely uncharted territory. "Erm," she faltered, then shook herself out of her surprise, "Dumbledore…well he…devised a complicated series of charms that were supposed to protect the messages. They were designed in such a way so that they could be used in various combinations, making it appear as though a single, amazingly powerful spell had been used to lock the message away." Hermione paused and smiled weakly at Malfoy.

"Ah," Malfoy said, "I see now, interlocking charms…good."

Hermione frowned. "You still have no idea what it means, do you?"

Malfoy looked at her for a moment with his mouth open, but then clicked it shut again. "No…afraid I don't."

"Ok," Hermione sighed, "Let's start with something simpler. You know that certain charms can be used to disguise objects or messages, meaning that you'd require a counter charm to unlock them?"

"I think I heard that," Malfoy waved his hand around in the air vaguely, "somewhere or other."

"Yes, well," Hermione said sternly, "the problem with using existing charms for that purpose is that, no matter how complicated the charm you choose, it will always be possible to examine it, work out the counter-charm and hence, expose the hidden message. That's where interlocking charms comes in," she brandished the compact, "This message is protected by not one, but a series of enchantments that all combine to form a complex magical…lock I suppose you could say, sealing what's inside securely."

"Right ok," Malfoy pressed his hand to his temple as though he were in pain, "I get it…great man Dumbledore…genius. Let me see it?" he asked, holding out his hand. Hermione hesitated, but she supposed it couldn't hurt really, so she handed it over.

Malfoy turned the compact over in his hand, and then opened it and squinted inside. "So there's a hidden message in here?" He drew his wand and raised it, bringing the tip down toward the compact.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, "Don't do that."

"Why?" Malfoy looked up puzzled, "if there's a message hidden here, don't you think we should take a look?"

"Well, yes, but I told you that it isn't that simple. You can't just go poking around inside it," she said, in full flow now, "it has to be done in a very specific way or it will self-destruct and…" she paused awkwardly. 'DAMN!'

"And?" Malfoy asked expectantly.

Hermione chewed her lip; she shouldn't have said that, Malfoy was already paranoid enough as it was. Really, though, it was nothing, just a silly thought, surely Dumbledore wouldn't… "Well…they were used during the war you know…and the enemy were the only ones that were likely to be tampering with them so…some of them…just some of them mind you…were designed to…erm…well…sort of…explode if they were messed with."

Malfoy's face went blank. "Sort of explode? As in sort of blow up?" he stood up, "As in a big bang sort of thing…a great big BOOM followed by you and me falling in little tiny pieces around the landscape…that sort of explode?"

"Err…" Hermione shrugged at him, "well…you know…sometimes…yes, that kind of explode, but," she added hastily as Malfoy extended his arm as far as he could, "come on…this is from Dumbledore remember…and the war is long over…there wouldn't be any reason for him to booby trap it."

Malfoy stared down at the compact, still holding it like it was about to take his hand off without warning.

Hermione shook her head, enough was enough. "For pities sake," she said, reaching out and snatching the compact back before he could stop her, "This message is safe," she assured him, "I know it is. Dumbledore wouldn't have sent us anything dangerous."

Malfoy looked dubious. "If you say so," he said, never taking his eyes off the compact in her hand, "So let's hear it."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"The message," Malfoy said, turning to sit on the bed, "open it."

"Well…" Hermione faltered.

"Well what?" Malfoy asked, "You do know how to open it, I assume?"

"Erm…yes, I do, but…"

"But what?" Malfoy stared at her.

Hermione shook her head. "I…that is, I'm not…well…what I mean is…this message…Dumbledore sent it to me and…"

"And you're not sure that he intended for me to hear it?" Malfoy finished for her.

"No I wouldn't…" she tried to find a nicer way to phrase it, but there just wasn't one, "Well…ok, you could say that."

Malfoy looked at her long and hard, then he nodded. "Tough!"

"Excuse me?"

"I said tough, Granger," he took a step closer to her, "As I told you a moment ago, I was content to be excluded from the details of this little excursion before people started slipping sleeping potions into my drinks. Now, I have to decide what to do about Krum, and to do that I'll have to know what's going on here…what's really going on," he stressed, "So," he brandished his wand in her face, "I'll give you two choices, either you open that message, or I will."

"You can't…"

"Maybe," he smiled, "but I can try. Like I said, I don't have a choice. I need to know what I'm up against. So I'm going to hear that message, Granger, with, or without your help. If it blows up," he shrugged, "it blows up. I'll just have to take the chance, and hope that your faith in Dumbledore's intentions wasn't misplaced. But then again…" he paused and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What?" Hermione drew herself up and stared at him.

Malfoy smiled. "Well, it occurs to me that, if you aren't lying about your mission, then you don't really have a lot to lose by opening it right now. If it is, as you say it is, just a few last minute details, crossing t's and dotting i's and so forth, what does it matter if I hear it?"

"Well…"

"If, on the other hand," Malfoy cut her off, "you are lying, and this mission and that message are more than you say…"

"I am not lying," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

Malfoy leaned down to stare her in the face. "Prove it."

Hermione glared hard at him. "Fine!" she spat, taking an involuntary step backwards, "If that's what it takes to shut you up."

She shook her head and tried to breathe through her temper as she turned her attention to the card:

'_When in private we come to dream,_

_ In the mirror we set the scene,_

_ Love is a whisper, waiting to be spoken,_

_ Look within to find the token._'

Hermione mouthed the words of the verse over and over, searching for the meaning that they contained.

'When in…hrm,' she said to herself, 'Now what could that mean?' Malfoy cleared his throat harshly, causing her to break her concentration. "What?" she barked at him.

"I'm waiting, Granger," he said coolly.

"I know," she retorted, "Just give me a second here."

"For what? What the hell are you waiting for?"

"Will you shut up for two seconds, Malfoy," Hermione snapped at him, "And let me decode this." She brandished the card at him.

"That?" Malfoy frowned, he pointed to the compact, "Didn't you say that that was the message?"

"I did," Hermione sighed, "but this," she waved the card at him, "is the key to opening it."

"How is that?" Malfoy frowned.

"Ok," Hermione said, "this stupid act has gone far enough. You know full well what this is…you have to."

Malfoy shook his head. "Sorry," he shrugged, "haven't a clue."

"Please," Hermione set her hands on her hips, "You must have seen one of these before?"

"Nope," he said flatly.

"Oh come off it, Malfoy," she sighed, her patience at an end, "Just what were you doing during the war?"

Malfoy's reaction to that sent a chill down Hermione's spine. He didn't move, not a muscle, but there was a subtle change in his bearing and a cool veil fell over his eyes. "Mostly fighting," he answered at last, "Some of us didn't have time for riddles and puzzles. It was a war after all, Granger, we were too busy trying to stay alive," there was a cold clip to his voice now that hadn't been there before.

Hermione swallowed; she was about to say something to him, some manner of an apology, but the words failed her. Instead, she just brushed past it and soldiered on. "And you really never had to decode one of these messages?"

"Never," was the simple response.

"Right," she said, trying to force some life into her voice, "well…here then, take a look." She held out the card. Malfoy glanced at it, then looked at her once again. He didn't speak. "You see the poem?" she asked after an uncomfortable moment, to no response, "Well it's the key to…to unlock the message," she continued awkwardly, "If you know how to read it, you'll find all you need to decode the message," when Malfoy still didn't speak, Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly, "See?" she asked, pointing to the lines of the poem in turn, "Each line has a different clue, you put all the clues together and you know how to open the message." She paused, again waiting for comment, but when none came, she opened her mouth to continue trying to explain.

At this, Malfoy spoke. "You should probably just get on with it," he said in a voice that rang with restrained emotion.

Hermione's jaw clicked shut again. She bit her tongue slightly and decided that she probably should just do it. She turned her eyes to the card. A poem, four lines…a clue in each line. She thought hard as she read the lines over and over, trying to put herself in the right frame of mind for the task. It shouldn't be too tough, she told herself. Dumbledore had written plenty of coded messages like this for her during the latter months of the war, and they had all used the same pattern: The When, the Where and the How. When to open the message, where to open it and how it should be opened. The clues were always different, but the puzzle was the same, as was the means to solve it.

Firstly there was the when, all of the coded messages Dumbledore ever sent her time specific, they could only be opened at specific times. So when could this one be opened?

"When in private we come to dream…" she said the line aloud, "When we dream…" her mind chewed it over for a moment, and then, "Right!" she exclaimed, "I have it…night time, this message can only be opened at night."

"Is that so?" Malfoy intoned, glancing at the window, and at the starry sky outside, "Well we have that covered…I assume there's more to it?"

Hermione didn't answer, she was already working on the second clue; "In the mirror we set the scene…" She rolled the words over in her head. If this was a typical Dumbledore message, then this should point to where she should open the message, but, that couldn't be right, how was she supposed to open it in a mirror, and which mirror was she supposed to use? Could it be any mirror? There was one in her room, not three feet away, would that do? She shook her head; it was too imprecise, not at all Dumbledore's style. "In a mirror?" she mused quietly, what did it mean?

"The," Malfoy said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione blinked at him.

"The message says 'the mirror'," he said, "Not 'a mirror', 'the mirror'."

"So?" Hermione looked from Malfoy to the card, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," Malfoy shrugged, "but it stands to reason that, if that poem is indeed a clue, then it would be worded very carefully, and" he reached out and took the compact from her hand. He held it aloft and clicked it open, "seeing as how the poem mentions 'the mirror' and Dumbledore just happened to send you this…" he held the compact to the light, so that the lamp reflected off the mirrored inner surface of the lid and into her eyes.

Hermione hissed under her breath and shoved his arm down, more out of annoyance than anything else. He was right of course, that was the only explanation that made sense, but she should have realised that on her own. Dumbledore had a flair for word games, and so it was entirely possible and even probable that the 'where' in this clue could refer, not to the place where she should open the message, but instead it could point to where the message itself was hidden, in this case, "In the mirror we set the scene," she shook her head and tried to avoid Malfoy's eyes, "Right…ok." Then she scanned the rest of the note.

Malfoy didn't make any comment or joke. "What's the next line?"

"Oh…it's just the how," Hermione answered without thinking, her mind already working on the last clue.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," she apologised, "The third line is supposed to tell me how to open the message," she held out the card to him once again, "Here…look, 'Love is a whisper, waiting to be spoken'…"

"Yes, I can see that…and?"

"And?"

"And," Malfoy sounded exasperated, "What does it mean?"

Hermione looked at him. 'Oh, so you aren't so smart after all, are you?' she thought, resisting the urge to smirk. "A password," she said quickly, before she lost the battle, "it means we need a password…a whisper to be spoken…"

Malfoy looked at the card again, and frowned. "Right…so what's the password?"

"That is what the forth line is supposed to tell us," Hermione said, trying again to spot the clue in the last line, "Look within to find the token…"

"Right," Malfoy said, "So you're saying that the token is the password?"

Hermione shrugged. "It makes sense doesn't it?"

"I suppose," Malfoy said, turning his attention to the compact, "Look within…within what? In this?" He turned the compact upside down and examined the underside.

"Careful," Hermione admonished him as a fine haze of powder fell out of the case and drifted toward the floor, "You're spilling it."

"So?" Malfoy asked, "Maybe that's what we're supposed to do, maybe the password is written inside the powder…maybe that's what 'look within' refers to."

"Maybe," Hermione chewed her lip, "but I don't think so…it just doesn't feel right. Dumbledore wouldn't hide the password in the compact, it wouldn't be safe enough."

Malfoy stared at the compact again, poking his finger inside the powder cake as though hoping to find something in there, "But if it's not in here," he said, puzzled, "then where is it?"

"That," Hermione said, "is a good question…"

Both of them stared at one another for a long moment, each waiting for the other to come up with the answer. Hermione wracked her brain, 'look within…' that was the clue, but what did it mean? Malfoy had the right question, look within what? The answer, however, eluded her. Where had Dumbledore hidden the password? She watched as Malfoy continued to shake and prod the compact, hoping in vain to dislodge something. It was possible that he was right, she supposed, but her instincts told her that he wasn't. The password just wouldn't be in the compact, it just couldn't be.

Keeping the message and the key separate was an essential part of Dumbledore's code. Even when they were sent together, as they were in this case, there was never any direct link between them. The key was always something innocuous, just a message or a riddle, only decipherable as anything out of the ordinary when you knew what to look for. She scanned the poem again; the answer had to be there. Hermione did know what to look for, or at least, she had thought she did. She hadn't ever had a problem with these in the past. So what was the answer?

"You know," Malfoy said, "this whole code thing doesn't strike me as a very good idea. I mean," he scowled and shook the compact by his ear, "what good is a coded message, if the person who it was sent to can't decode it?"

Hermione was about to answer, but then something in his words struck a chord in her memory. She suddenly remembered something else about Dumbledore's codes, something that she hadn't considered before. Her eyes scanned the message again, and this time she saw it, plain as day, the answer nearly jumping out at her.

"Of course," she said, thumping her forehead with the base of her hand, "How could I have been so stupid?"

"Excuse me?" Malfoy asked, seeming bewildered.

"Its right there," she exclaimed, "RIGHT THERE and I missed it!"

"What is right there?" Malfoy asked her, sounding annoyed, "And where is it?"

"The answer…I mean the password," she jabbed a finger at the card, "Its right there!"

"Where?" Malfoy asked, snatching the card from her hand, "I don't see it."

"Yes you do," Hermione corrected him, "You just don't realise it." She smiled briefly at him, but then shook it off when she saw his expression. "Look within, Malfoy," she told him, "Within…the password is in the message…well," she paused and cocked her head to the side, "Sort of anyway."

"How do you mean, sort of?"

Hermione shook her head and laughed. "I really am dumb, how could I have missed it?"

"Granger," Malfoy growled, "I am not going to ask again...WHAT did you miss?"

"The last line," Hermione said. "Look within to find the token, I know what it means."

Malfoy stared in silence for a moment, and then barked, "What?"

"Look within," Hermione repeated, "The phrase is meant to confuse you, because it has many meanings, both literal and figurative. That's why Dumbledore used it, because it's ambiguous. It might mean that the password is physically hidden inside something, or," she paused for breath, "It could mean that the answer is within," she raised her hand and pointed to her heart, "here…more specifically, that it's inside me. Which means that I already know it!"

"Inside you?" Malfoy shook his head, "Granger, what the hell are you talking about?"

"This message was meant for me, Malfoy," she said slowly, "Dumbledore coded it for ME to open. So it stands to reason that the password would have to be something that has a special meaning for me, like a nickname, or the name of my favourite pet for example."

"So the password is the name of your cat?" Malfoy asked, sounding dubious, "Crankshaft?"

Hermione glared at him, he knew full well that her cat was called. "Crookshanks," she said sternly, "and no, I don't think that that is the answer, it was just an example."

"Ok then," Malfoy said after carefully examining the compact for any reaction to Hermione saying Crookshanks' name, "So what is it then?"

"Well," Hermione said, "this is Dumbledore we're talking about and, given that he used a phrase like that, with so many meanings, don't you think that it's reasonable for the answer to actually be a combination of them?"

"I suppose," Malfoy sighed.

"Look at the card," Hermione asked, "What does it say?"

Malfoy sighed and then took a breath and recited the poem once again,

'_When in private we come to dream,_

_ In the mirror we set the scene,_

_ Love is a whisper, waiting to be spoken,_

_ Look within to find the token._'

When he finished, he looked expectantly at Hermione. She smiled at him. "Ok," she said, reaching out carefully and almost completely covering the poem with her fingers, "What does it say now?"

The both looked down and, just as she had intended, Hermione's fingers now covered most of the words. In fact, all that was visible of the poem was the first letter of every line,

'_W…_

_ I…_

_ L…_

_ L…_'

"Will?" Malfoy said aloud, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Gods Malfoy, I would have thought that a smart wizard like you would know something as simple as that."

"Well I don't," Malfoy spat as Hermione plucked the compact from his hand, "What does the word 'Will' have to do with you?"

"Oh quite a bit," Hermione turned her back and walked to the bedside table, "Do you even know where I got my name?"

"Your…name?" Malfoy asked, "What does your name have to do with this?"

Hermione set the compact down on the table and opened it fully, turning it so that the mirror faced outward toward the room. "My name," she said, rounding on him as he moved up behind her, "is taken from a play that my mother studied when she was in school. Have you ever heard of 'A Winter's Tale'?"

"No," Malfoy said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Hrm," Hermione shook her head and drew her wand, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It was written by a muggle after all. A very famous muggle in fact, an English playwright named Will-iam," she paused and lower the tip of her wand to touch the mirror gently, "Shakespeare."

"What…" Malfoy started to ask, but then he fell silent. The second that Hermione had said that word, the compact reacted. A dull haze blew across the polished surface of the mirror. Hermione stepped away and stowed her wand in her pocket once again, and then turned her attention to the message. The mirror had now fogged up completely, turning a dull, milky grey, before it started to glow faintly. Hermione stood up, basking in the glow of her own triumph and readying herself to hear the message from Professor Dumbledore, the message that would finally convince Malfoy that there was nothing to her mission other than what she had told him.

The glow from the mirror intensified. From within the remnants of the powder cake, a plume of smoke started to rise. The smoke rose to form a column standing about eight inches above the tabletop, then it started to swirl, collapsing inward on itself until, almost without warning, a ghostly figure wafted into focus and smiled out at them.

"Hello, Miss Granger," the image of Professor Dumbledore said, "and, unless I miss my guess, hello to Mr Malfoy as well." Hermione and Malfoy cast stunned looks at each other for a moment. Hermione shook her head, was there anything that that man couldn't figure out?

Malfoy dropped to his haunches as the Professor's image spoke again. "I assume since you are seeing this message, that you arrived safely in Sofia and have thoroughly settled in with Mister Krum, I trust that your journey was pleasant and without incident.

"By now, Miss Granger, you have, being your efficient self as always, most likely made the first inroads toward completing the mission that I entrusted to you, that of convincing Professor Ivanova to allow her school to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament once again next summer," Hermione looked down, wanting to catch Malfoy's attention and give him her best, 'I told you so,' look, but his attention was firmly on the Professor.

'It can wait,' she said to herself, feeling that something was finally going her way today. That feeling was to be short lived.

"I have little doubt, Miss Granger," the Professor's image continued, "that you have worked hard in preparing for this assignment, and I am certain that you would have succeeded in convincing Professor Ivanova to support my proposals, but, alas, the time has now come for me to tell you the truth."

This did not sound good. Hermione swallowed hard as the Professor continued, "I did not send you to Bulgaria simply to assist in the organisation of the tournament, in point of fact, I am seriously doubtful if there will be a tournament at all. The timing simply isn't right at the moment," he paused for a moment, "For the time being, however, the issue of the tournament is…irrelevant."

Hermione blanched. Now Malfoy looked at her. His expression was not what she could call smug by any means, but she did see her own thought echoed at her, 'I told you so!'

Professor Dumbledore's image spoke again. "You will forgive me for being blunt about this, but time is limited in this message, and there is much I need to discuss. I am sure that this revelation has come as a shock to both you, and for that I whole-heartedly apologise, but this is a critical matter and I had little choice but to act as I did. A cover story was required to explain your travelling to Bulgaria and, for reasons that will soon become clear, it was extremely important for that story to remain intact.

"As you know, our victory in the recent war was not without its complications. Aside from the destruction and tremendous loss of life that the final battles wrought, and which still haunt us today, our eventual victory did not restore public safety in the manner that many assumed it would. Fear and paranoia still reign supreme, and danger still lurks in the shadowy places. Many of those who followed Voldemort managed to survive his demise, and, while the Dark Lord himself may be gone, the remnants of his evil remain. In particular, I refer to the number of Death Eaters that are still at large."

Hermione nodded at this. Fighting through her shock, she resolved to listen carefully to the Professor's message, and to carry out his real orders, whatever they may be, to the best of her ability. Her mind conjured up an image as he spoke, that of a list of names. The names of those Death Eaters, who, on seeing the tide of the war turn against them, decided to jump ship and had gone to ground. That list, and the twenty four names on it, had been printed and posted all over Europe since the end of the war as part of the largest, multi-national wizardhunt ever mounted. A reward of ten thousand galleons was on offer to anyone who could provide information leading to the capture of any one of the twenty-four Blackbirds, as they had become known, the name being drawn from an old children's nursery rhyme. Hermione felt a shiver run through her as she pictured the bottom of the poster, and the heavy black letters,

'_Dead or Alive!_'

Without realising it, Hermione had turned away from the image of the Professor, and was now watching Malfoy very closely, trying to gauge his reaction to all this.

"For the last two years," Dumbledore continued, "despite the combined efforts of every Auror Command in Europe, the majority of these fugitive Death Eaters have managed to elude capture, while still presenting a genuine threat to public safety." Hermione recalled this too, the string of random attacks and unexplained disappearances, all attributed to the Blackbirds, sometimes even without any evidence to support the accusations.

She returned her attention to the message. "The main problem in apprehending these individuals," said Dumbledore sombrely, "has always been the erratic nature of their activities. There has never been any discernable pattern to their attacks, nor have we ever been able to ascertain any of their goals, aside from an apparent desire to cause as much pain and suffering as they could. This situation was detestable, but manageable. Our progress in apprehending the culprits was slow, it must be said, but we were making advances. Our efforts to limit their ability to travel seemed to be proving a serious hindrance to them and, without their leader to rally further support for their cause, or to properly organise their operations, we believed that it was only a matter of time before we had eliminated them once and for all.

"All of that changed a month ago," Hermione's ears pricked up as she heard this, Dumbledore carried on, "A German Auror, working undercover in Dresden, intercepted a communication that we believe was intended for Walden McNair. Who sent it, we do not know, nor was the Auror able to secure the entire message, but he did manage to decipher the phrase,

'_…proceed to __Sofia__. We honour The Covenant…_'

"The precise meaning of this message was, and is, unknown, but an investigation by the German and Polish governments both managed to uncover further links between the former Death Eaters operating in Eastern Europe and something that they referred to as 'The Covenant'. Our current working theory is that it is a gathering of sorts, a planned rendezvous at which all of the remaining Death Eaters will meet to plan a new series of attacks. This theory has been supported by all of the facts we have learned to date.

"During our investigation into this matter, certain of the shadier elements in our society were persuaded to come forward and to aid in our enquiry. From them we learned that a number people had been coming forward recently, seeking safe passage from various places to Sofia. It is suspected that these individuals were Death Eaters, though it has yet to be confirmed.

"All of this has led the Wizengamot to conclude that Voldemort's former allies have abandoned, or are about to abandon their previous random terror mongering, in favour of a renewed bid for power in Europe. A resolution to deal with the situation was passed by a clear majority at a closed session in Paris ten days ago, but here, however, we meet our problem.

"Currently, a great deal of mistrust and hostility exists between the powers of Europe. In particular, the governments of Romania and Bulgaria have been reluctant to allow what they call 'foreign interference' in their internal affairs. Legally, of course, every nation has the right to see to its own affairs according its own laws, free from the direct influence of the Wizengamot. The Bulgarians rejected our concerns as nonsense and accused us of trying to turn them into a scapegoat after the regrettable incident at Durmstrang Academy three years ago. They pointed out that we had no proof of any gathering of Death Eaters anywhere in their country, and they were right, we have no proof, only rumours and supposition.

"It should, by now, be clear to both of you why I sent you to Sofia. We, by which I mean the Mugwump High Committee for the Control of Dark Forces, need proof that our information about the Death Eaters is accurate. We need something more tangible than rumours, something more solid than hearsay, something that we can take to the Bulgarian authorities that cannot be simply dismissed out of hand. Only then will we be able to bring the kind of international pressure to bear against them that will force them to admit the truth and allow us to intervene and stop this Covenant before it starts. Your mission, therefore, is to acquire this proof for us by any means at your disposal.

"I know that this is a lot to ask of you, and had I any other options available to me, I would have taken them, but time and the realities of the current political environment are against us.

The professor paused, and seemed to consult something or someone beyond the range of the recorded message. "My time is almost up here," he continued, "but before I go, there are a couple of things that still need to be said. First and foremost, I must stress that, as this mission goes against the direct wishes of the Bulgarian government, it is most certainly an illegal activity, tantamount to treason against a sovereign nation. That is why you had to travel under pretence and why you were not informed of any of this until now. There was no way to assure that you would not be under surveillance as you travelled, and it was imperative that no word of this get out. The authority of the Wizengamot cannot be compromised. It can therefore make no official recognition of your activities under any circumstances. Should you succeed, there will be no official record of your involvement whatsoever, and should you fail, the consequences will rest with you alone.

"For this reason, I cannot, in good conscience, order either of you to do undertake this mission. I have no authority to do so in any case. While you have both given me your assurances that you would carry out my orders, this mission is not what you initially agreed to and, should you desire to abandon it now and return home at once, I will understand, and will make no issue of it in any way.

"I have explained the situation as best I can. The Death Eaters represent the last remaining fragments of what was possibly the greatest evil that the world has ever faced. Whatever they are planning, it cannot be allowed to succeed. Both of you know this, both of you understand what is at stake here, but you also are aware of the risks. So the choice is yours: Stay or go, I leave it to you."

Malfoy sniffed and lowered his head in contemplation, clearly believing that the message was finished, and definitely just as shocked as Hermione was at its contents. She tried to swallow, and realised that her throat had gone dry. She hadn't even begun to process the meaning of the message when the image of the Professor spoke again.

"One last thing before I finish, a detail of some importance to you, Miss Granger. No doubt you are wondering why I chose you for this mission. A fair question to be sure, and the answer is simple. One week ago, the body of a known arms smuggler was found in the rubble of a suspected Death Eater attack in Liverpool. A charred piece of parchment was found on his body, bearing the names of four known Death Eater fugitives, and one other name…Viktor Krum."

Hermione froze in place, even her breathing stopped. She felt as though someone had just dropped her headfirst into a vat of freezing water, she was suddenly numb from head to toe. Was Dumbledore actually implying that Viktor was a Death Eater? This was impossible. Viktor? A Death Eater? Never! Still, she found herself questioning herself. This morning he had been her friend…this afternoon he had been a vulgar piece of slime that had betrayed her, this evening he had become a walking enigma that, for reasons known only to himself, had tried to incapacitate her with drugs, and now…now he was a criminal…maybe even a murderer?

Malfoy stood beside her and turned as though to speak to her, but she raised her hand and silenced him. She stared hard at Dumbledore's wavering image, fighting to keep herself upright.

The Professor had one final message to impart. "I do not wish you to jump to any conclusions, Miss Granger. In this time of uncertainty, we need answers, not guesses. There is no reason to suspect that Viktor is in league with the former Death Eaters, all we know is that his name appeared on a piece of parchment next to some of their names.

"We do not, however, and I want to emphasise this, know why his name was on that list. It may well be that he has become tangled up in events beyond his control. The Death Eaters have always been masters of manipulation, and Viktor may be naught but an innocent victim of whatever they are planning to do. Perhaps, if you were to find the extent of Viktor's involvement, it will lead you to the proof we need to bring the Death Eaters down once and for all.

"Whatever you decide, whatever plan of action you take, I trust that you will be careful, both of you. I wish you luck."

The image of the Professor faded slowly and then vanished completely in a wisp of smoke. Hermione stared at the compact for a long time, listening to the sound of her own breathing. Her anger grew with every breath she took. Anger at Dumbledore, she eventually realised. Her choice? Yeah right! Only Dumbledore would give her that message and call it a choice. A choice? What choice? What the hell did he expect? Was she supposed to hear that her good and (possibly) loyal friend was either a Death Eater, or was in league with them, and then just pack her bags and leave him to it? What if she did? What if she left and, because of that, this Covenant went ahead unchecked? Was she also supposed to live with the knowledge that she was there, and could maybe have prevented…whatever it was from happening?

"Are you ok?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione ignored the question, she just continued to stare at the compact, getting madder and madder with each passing second until, in a fit of rage, she reached out and snatched it from the table, only to bring it back down again with all the force she could muster. The metal thudded against the table, the sound echoed around the room. Malfoy shushed her hurriedly, and tried unsuccessfully to stop her arm from swinging upward, and then back down again even harder than before. There was a second loud thud, followed this time by the tinkle of broken glass as the shards of the shattered mirror within the compact flew out and skittered across the floor. Hermione squeezed the now battered compact hard in her hand and raised her arm to smash it yet again, but Malfoy had other ideas. His fist closed around her wrist and he spun her round to face him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, an inch from her nose, "Do you want the whole house to hear you?" He wrenched the compact from her fingers and stepped back. "We are supposed to be unconscious, remember?" he breathed, tossing the battered, metal case onto the bed.

Hermione didn't care who heard her right now, she was past caring. Besides, the only person that could hear was Viktor and, Death Eater or not, her friend or not, the way she felt at that moment, it would be the mistake of his life if he were to cross her path. That went for Malfoy too as it happened. There he was, standing there, staring at her like she was some kind of freak.

"What?" she hissed at him through her teeth.

Malfoy shrugged the question off. "Just thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"What the fuck do you think, Granger? I'm thinking about what Dumbledore just said."

"I figured as much," she laughed at him, "Planning the fastest way home are we?"

Malfoy seemed to slump slightly. "Is that what you plan on doing?"

"No," Hermione breathed.

Malfoy took a step toward her. "What are you going to do?"

"Simple," Hermione said, a plan forming in her mind as she spoke, "I am going to march out of that door, find Viktor, and then…then…" she shook her head hard, and then turned to face Malfoy, "Then, I am going to find out once and for all just what the hell it is that my life has turned into today."

Malfoy studied her for a moment, and then nodded. "Fair enough," he said, almost happily, "Sounds like a plan," he stepped back and gestured to the door, "After you."

Hermione paused, this was unexpected. "You're staying?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why do you think?" he shot back at her, "I have a job to do," Malfoy fixed her with a steely stare, "I agreed to come here and watch your back, and that is precisely what I intend to do."

There was no room in his tone of voice for doubt. He clearly meant what he was saying. Hermione looked him hard in the eye for a moment, feeling some of her anger and fear fade away. Whatever hell she had landed herself in, at least she wasn't alone. Taking what small solace she could from that fact, she nodded to Malfoy and had taken two steps toward the door when something occurred to her.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"What?" Malfoy frowned.

"Viktor," she said. "Check that button thing of yours, is he still in his study?"

Malfoy straightened and dug inside his pocket for a moment, before producing the Peephole. Hermione crossed the floor to stand next to him as he said the incantation that activated it. They waited a moment, then, as one, they jumped in alarm. Through the Peephole, they could clearly see that Viktor was not in his study. Hermione grabbed the button from Malfoy's hand and stared at it. The door that had been closed was now wide open, revealing an empty room behind it. Hermione blinked hard. She snatched the button from his hand and stared at it in disbelief. She turned and stared at Malfoy. It was clear that they were both sharing the same thought, if Viktor wasn't in the study, then where was he? Did he know that they weren't unconscious? Had he heard the racket that Hermione had just made? If so, was he now on his way to this very room? Was an angry Death Eater coming for them?

There was no time for those questions, there was no time for doubts, there was only time for action, the only question was. "What do we do?" Hermione asked hurriedly.

"We get the hell out of here, that's what we do," Malfoy drew his wand, "Go to the window, and see if you can open it. There might be a way we can get down from there."

"The window?" Hermione asked in a panic as Malfoy left her side and crossed in silence to the door, "What…why?"

"Do it," he ordered her, "We may need a way out of here in a hurry," he paused at the door and looked over his shoulder, "MOVE!" he roared when he saw her still not moving.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and, jarred into action, she stuffed the Peephole into her pocket, pulled out her wand and rushed over to the room's single window. She rapidly examined the frame, running the tip of her wand along the join to look for any signs of a locking charm. To her chagrin she found not one, but at least five different barriers preventing her from opening the window. At a cursory examination, she knew how to undo three of them, but the other two… "It's locked," she reported, turning round. She instantly had to stifle a gasp, Malfoy wasn't at the door as he should be, he was nowhere in sight in fact.

The door from the room into the hallway was open, but there was nothing but empty darkness beyond. Trembling hard, Hermione levelled her wand at the void and took a step forward. Suddenly there was movement in the shadow, and she panicked. Before she could see the figure that was approaching her clearly, she took aim and roared, "Stupefy!" at the top of her lungs.

The spell flashed red, illuminating Malfoy's startled face as he hurled himself onto the ground, just barely avoiding her attack. "Oh my god," she whimpered, "I'm…I'm sorry…I…I didn't know who or…"

"Don't worry about it," Malfoy breathed as he clambered to his feet. He turned and looked out the door. Hermione's spell had continued out into the hall and had detonated against one of the innumerable bull effigies that lined the halls of the house. Malfoy waved his wand at the burning pieces, and they vanished. He turned back to see the startled expression on her face and, to her astonishment, he smiled. "What? Like Krum's going miss one of those ghastly things out of all the others!"

Hermione stared for a moment more, then she remembered what was going on. She didn't have time to mess about here. "Viktor?" she asked.

Malfoy shook his head. "No sign of him…or of anyone, but," he said, "if he'd rumbled us, he'd be here by now and we'd be hip deep in trouble, so that's something. He might be somewhere else in the house…"

"It's a big house," Hermione reminded him, just in case he was planning on going looking for Viktor.

"I know," Malfoy said, sounding contemplative, "We might be better off getting out of here anyway…it shouldn't be too hard to find a place for us to hole up for the night, and then we can come at this fresh in the morning, on our own terms."

Hermione listened to him speak. She barely heard him planning their next move. All that she did hear was 'we', 'us' and 'our'. She coughed hard, realising that she was choking up at the mere sound of those words. 'Damnit, Granger, get a hold on yourself!'

Malfoy looked at her. "Did you say the window was locked?"

She nodded. "Yes," she scrambled to get back onto the same page as him. "I think I can open it, but it might take a minute."

"Right then," he said, "Do it, I'll keep an eye…and, Granger?" he called as she turned away.

"Yes."

"Next time," he flashed her a grin, "look before you fire!"

Hermione nodded and turned away again, this time to hide her blush, and walked quickly to the window. Malfoy took up station at the door, continually shifting to watch for any sign of danger from either direction. Hermione reached the window and busied herself in undoing the locks. She worked rapidly, afraid to slow down lest the full weight of what she had just gotten herself into hit her. She wasn't sure if she could take that. 'But,' she thought, with a glance over her shoulder, 'Maybe 'we' can!'

The first three locks were no trouble to her, but the next two were proving tough. She was passing her wand along the window ledge for what seemed like the hundredth time when she saw movement outside and froze.

Outside, the long silver car had been moved forward to the front of the house. Hermione would have assumed that it had simply remained there since their arrival, were it not for two things. Firstly, Gregor, the driver, was sitting at attention behind the wheel, with the engine running, and second, the car was facing the opposite way to the way it had been. Clearly someone was planning a late night jaunt, and there could only be one somebody in that sentence.

Hissing to get Malfoy's attention, Hermione stepped into the shadows beside the window, positioning herself so that she could see what was going on outside, but not be seen too easily herself. Malfoy arrived beside her and she pulled him from view just as a hooded figure detached itself from the shadows at the front of the house and headed for the car.

"Krum!" Malfoy whispered.

The hooded figure disappeared into the car and the engine revved as it pulled away. Krum was leaving the house. Hermione watched the car go and something clicked in her head. "That's why he drugged us!" she said, turning to look at Malfoy.

He nodded slightly. "He didn't want us to know he was leaving…."

"The question is, where is he going?" Hermione said.

Both of them looked at one another for a moment and then, as the car pulled out around the hill, they both said in unison. "Let's go!"


	3. The Serpent Club

Draco stepped forward to the window. He rattled the lock for a moment before shaking his head,

"You say you can open this?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Hermione.

"I think so," she replied, trying to hide the uncertain waver in her voice.

Draco nodded at her, "Then do it," he said, stepping back into the shadows, "I'll be right back," he added.

"Wait," Hermione called after his disappearing form, "where are you going?"

"Just open the window," was his reply as he slipped silently out of the door.

Hermione stared after him for a moment, perplexed and then turned her attention to the window. Stepping forward, she bit her lip nervously. True, she was fairly sure what combination of locking charms Viktor had used on this window and true, she knew the right counter charms to unlock them but she was nervous. Despite her attempt at keeping herself together, she was still unsure of just where things were going here.

Her eyes drifted up. Outside, she could clearly see the lights of Viktor's car slowly climbing the sloping driveway. It seemed that, wherever he was going, Viktor wasn't in a hurry. Wherever he was going… Hermione still couldn't quite believe what was happening. Viktor, a Death Eater? The very idea was just so… so foreign to her that she just couldn't bring herself to accept it, not deep down. But then again he hadn't exactly treated her as a friend should since her arrival. Friends didn't drug one another, at least not in Hermione's way of thinking. Then there was that whole matter of the bet, but no, she wasn't going there, this was not the time to be worrying about the past, the present was shaping up to be tough enough.

Remembering what she was supposed to be doing, Hermione raised her wand and, with a trembling hand, began running it along the seam of the window. Just as she had a moment ago, she felt a series of slight buzzes as the tip of her wand encountered locking charms, seven in total. Viktor was clearly very security conscious. Thankfully though, the locks, while effective, seemed to be geared more towards keeping intruders out than keeping a prisoner in. If she had been outside the window, then undoing them would have been next to impossible. But she wasn't outside.

Taking aim at the first lock, Hermione began muttering under her breath, casting every counter charm she knew until she heard the tiny popping sound she was waiting for. The next lock gave up a little sooner than the first, and then the next. She had gotten past the fourth and fifth locks and was about to work on the sixth when she heard a floorboard creak behind her.

Fighting a fresh surge of panic, Hermione turned, aiming her wand at the door, "Who… who's there?"

"Relax, Granger," Malfoy's voice replied out of the darkness, "its just me."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Hermione said, "Where did you go?"

Malfoy hefted his travel bag onto his shoulder, "Just getting some supplies," he said, "We need to be ready."

Hermione turned back to the window, shaking her head a little, "I never took you for the boy scout type, Malfoy."

"What?" Malfoy asked, sounding bewildered.

Hermione shook her head and started working on the sixth lock, "Nevermind, I'll tell you later."

Malfoy stepped up behind her as she felt the sixth lock pop open, "How are we doing?" he asked.

Hermione took a breath and set to work on the seventh and final lock, "Almost there," she whispered, mentally firing off the unlocking charms. The last lock proved the toughest of the lot. Hermione was just beginning to doubt her skills at undoing it when, with a final, louder pop, the window came free. The force of releasing the last lock shook the window frame, slamming the window open. Hermione jumped and stumbled backwards, only to find herself caught by Malfoy's extended arm.

"Well done," he said, helping her back to her feet without so much as a hint of an insult or smart remark at her fright.

Hermione was about to reply when her eyes fell on what Malfoy was holding in his other hand. She blinked, not quite believing what she was seeing but no, he was indeed holding a broomstick, a very fast, racing grade broomstick at that. 'Oh no,' she thought, 'please not that!'

Hermione felt her face blanch. In the race to open the window and follow Viktor, she had never even thought about how they were going to follow him. He was in a car, they weren't. Naturally they'd never be able to keep up with him on foot, but still, that didn't mean they had to go flying, did it? Malfoy, it seemed, believed that it did.

"Where did you get that?" she asked him, trying desperately to think of another way, a sane way, to follow Viktor.

"Krum's bedroom," Malfoy replied in a matter of fact sort of way, stepping forward to peer out of the window.

"But," Hermione began, "How did you…"

"You don't know anything about Quidditch players, do you?" Malfoy replied, sliding the broom out of the window, "Now come on," he added, "we can't let Krum get away."

He didn't wait for a reply. No sooner had Malfoy spoken those words than he had hoisted himself up and then scrambled out of the window, letting himself drop lightly onto the tiled roof of the ground floor below. He spun round and beckoned to Hermione, the top of his head just visible over the windowsill. Hermione swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. Brooms really weren't her thing. Her eyes darted to the steadily disappearing lights of the car. It had reached the gates now and was pulling out onto the road. They were running out of time.

"Come on," Malfoy hissed at her through the window.

Setting her jaw, Hermione moved forwards. Ducking her head, she hitched herself up onto the window ledge and brought her legs up. It was awkward, but she managed to get herself turned around without getting stuck. Looking down, she saw Malfoy waiting for her, his arms up, ready to catch her. Hermione shoved herself forward, dropping off the ledge. Malfoy caught her, slowing her fall before her feet touched down on the tiles. He held her for a moment while she steadied herself, then let her go. Hermione watched in silence as Malfoy mounted the broom. He seated himself forward of the balance point, leaving room for her to sit behind him.

Hermione hesitated; she could feel her stomach churning in fear. She really hated flying! Malfoy turned to the horizon and squinted, "Come on!" he hissed again, more insistently this time, "We have to move."

Catching his eye, Hermione saw his fiery determination burning back at her. There was no fear, no doubt in his eyes. He was in this with her, ready to do whatever it took to get the job done. Somehow, seeing that in Malfoy of all people steadied her. Still trembling, but only just, Hermione stepped forward and clumsily mounted the broom. She slid forward, moving as close as she could behind Malfoy, snaking her arms around his waist and getting ready to hold on for dear life.

"Ready?" he asked over his shoulder.

'Not even close!' Hermione screamed inside her head, but aloud she said, "Ready."

Malfoy kicked off. Hermione felt the broom surge between her legs. She shut her eyes, squeezing them tight so she wouldn't have to see the world drop away from underneath her. The seemed to climb forever, leaning sickeningly from side to side as Malfoy circled, getting his bearings.

"Over there," he shouted over the roaring wind. Hermione was sure he was pointing in some direction or other, but she wasn't about to look. Instead she just tightened her grip on his stomach, counting the seconds till she felt solid land under her feet again.

The broom surged again. Hermione felt her stomach drop as Malfoy dived the broom. Against her better judgement, Hermione opened her eyes. The ground below, spread out like a mottled grey blanket in the moonlight, was rushing up towards her with a sickening speed. Hermione felt her jaw drop open as a scream scrambled up her throat. Malfoy turned. He said something, but Hermione didn't hear a word of it. All she was aware of was the ground hurtling up at her and the wind screaming past her ears. They continued to plummet. Below, Hermione could now see the top of every tree growing larger and larger with every passing second.

"Pull up!" she shouted at Malfoy, "PLEASE pull up!!!"

Malfoy pulled up. Hermione felt herself crushed down into the broom as he arrested their dive. Their broom dropped below the tops of the tallest trees before it levelled out. Hermione felt a sharp pain in her ankle as she clipped a branch but it barely even registered with her. Right now all she wanted was to be off this damned broom. Sure they had to fly, but did Malfoy really have to show off like this?

Their pace slowed. Malfoy sat upright on the broom and turned to her, "Krum!" he said, pointing off through the trees. Hermione followed his gesture, her eyes streaming in the wind. Sure enough, the lights of Viktor's car were clearly visible, less than a fifty feet away. She could see the car, but only intermittently through the trees. Malfoy accelerated the broom again, matching the cars speed as it continued down the road.

They followed Viktor's car for what seemed like hours. As they neared the city, things became more difficult. With no trees to hide them, they were forced to use buildings, darting from chimneystack to chimneystack, hovering below the rooftops while keeping the car in sight. The car wound its way into the narrow, winding streets of Sofia's old city. Here the buildings were taller, making visibility all that much more difficult. Still, Malfoy never lost sight of the silver car. Hermione marvelled at how skilfully he manoeuvred the broom, ducking in and out of alleyways and behind outcropping buildings, keeping them hidden from any but the luckiest onlookers below as they tracked Viktor right into the heart of the city.

At last, the car came to a halt outside an old building, standing on its own along one side of a cobbled city square. Malfoy circled a building at the far side of the square and slipped them into an alleyway. As they descended, Hermione shifted her position to get a better look at Viktor's destination. It had once been a very important building, that much was clear from the once lofty architecture, but it had long since fallen from grace. The upper two floors of the four-storey building were boarded up and surrounded by cracked, crumbling stonework. The windows in the first floor were intact, but had been painted black from the inside. The ground floor no longer had any windows at all, the openings where once there had been windows were bricked over. The entire front wall of the building was covered in graffiti, symbols and slogans that Hermione couldn't read were plastered all over the wall in over a dozen colours.

Dead centre of the front wall, Viktor's car had pulled up in front of a doorway, the building's only visible entrance. Two rather unpleasant looking men, dressed in heavy, leather jackets, flanked the door on either side. Overhead, a garish, blue neon sign glowed on and off in the darkness. Hermione couldn't read what the sign said, but she didn't need to, she could recognise a nightclub when she saw one.

They landed. Hermione felt her feet touch down just in time to see Viktor step out of the car and climb the short staircase leading up to the door. The two bouncers barely gave him a second glance as he pushed open the door and disappeared inside. The car pulled off, leaving the entrance in full view.

Malfoy shifted his weight and stepped off the broom. Hermione awkwardly followed suit. For a moment she just stood there, relishing the feeling of being on terra firma once again. Malfoy moved off, running towards the end of the alley. Silently, Hermione followed and then slipped into the shadows behind him. Malfoy stared at the club for a long time in silence, and then he turned and pressed himself back into the wall before turning to look at her. He seemed troubled.

"What is this place?" she asked him quietly.

"You don't recognise the name?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, "I don't read Bulgarian."

Malfoy smiled, "Wouldn't matter if you did," he said, flicking his head towards the club, "The sign is in Russian."

Hermione looked back at the sign, still unable to make head or tails of what it said, "So?"

"So what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "So what does it say?"

Malfoy shrugged, "I don't have a clue," he replied, "but it doesn't matter, its just a name. Look at the symbol beside it."

Hermione looked. Sure enough, beside the sign, painted onto the brickwork in pale green was a symbol, a very familiar symbol. Hermione squinted, wanting to be sure, but no, it can't be… "Slytherin!"

"Slytherin," Malfoy replied, turning to look at the club again. Hermione followed his gaze, bewildered as to how the serpent symbol of one of Hogwarts' houses could find its way onto a nightclub thousands of miles away. Malfoy though, didn't seem surprised in the least.

"You know what this place is, don't you?" she asked him quietly.

Malfoy nodded without turning round, "I've heard of it. It's called the Serpent Club."

"What is it?"

Malfoy was silent for a while, and then he said quietly, "Trouble," before moving away from the wall and slipping back down the alley.

Puzzled, Hermione followed him. Halfway down the alley, she found Malfoy stashing Viktor's broom behind a group of bins. He hunkered down and set his bag down on the ground. Hermione knelt beside him as he started to rummage about inside the bag, searching for something.

"Malfoy," she asked. He didn't respond, "Draco?" she tried again. This time, Malfoy did respond. He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her, "What is that place?" she asked him, careful to keep eye contact.

Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The Serpent Clubs sprang up across Europe during Voldemort's first bid for power. They started off as meeting places, quiet, out of the way hideouts where the right kind of people could get together and… and unwind."

"Unwind?" Hermione didn't like the sound of that, "What do you mean?"

Malfoy hissed under his breath, "You need me to draw you a picture? They were Death Eaters! What do you think they'd do for fun?"

Hermione reeled for a moment, taken aback by the harshness of Malfoy's tone, "It was just a question," she replied, "So, how many of these clubs were there?"

Malfoy was rummaging in his bag again, "I don't know," he replied, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "They didn't exactly advertise in the Daily Prophet you know."

"Right," Hermione shook off the comment, "So these clubs, Voldemort ran them?"

Malfoy shook his head, "I can't really see Voldemort as the cigar and brandy type, can you?"

"Guess not, but then again, I don't see this as the cigar and brandy kind of place."

"No," Malfoy cleared his throat, "As far as I know, he never had any interest in anything but his rise to power. I don't doubt he knew about the clubs, but I think he just didn't care. They helped keep his followers happy and feed their taste for 'their way of life', that was all that mattered to him."

Hermione tried to sort through all of this, fitting into what she knew of Voldemort and his followers. The very thought of a bunch of Death Eaters sitting around doing heaven knows what, torturing people, working dark magics, all in the name of fun? It was disgusting, but not surprising. After all, they were Death Eaters. Hermione had long ago stopped believing that there was anything they weren't capable of. All the same, there was one thing that wasn't adding up in her mind.

"Wait," she said, "You said these clubs were formed during Voldemort's first grab for power? So what happened to them when he fell?"

Malfoy shrugged, "Not a lot. Voldemort fell, but a lot of his followers didn't. Lots of them survived. Some went into hiding in fear, some tried to renounce their ways, but none of them gave up. Deep down, they believed in the cause they had chosen to follow. Some of them thought that Voldemort would come back one day and lead them again, some of them were arrogant enough to think they could become the next dark lord. As for the clubs, they carried on as normal. You have to remember, there was never a direct link between them and Voldemort, so there was no reason for them to stop. They just became a sort of ex-Death Eater holding patter. A way to keep their movement alive while keeping it out of sight," he paused, "I guess they still are."

Hermione nodded, uncertain of what reaction the next question would bring out of Malfoy, but she knew she had to ask, "How do you know so much about these clubs?"

Malfoy paused, avoiding her eyes, "Lucius told me about them," he said quietly, "He said he'd let me come with him to the one in Liverpool one day… when I was a man."

Hermione nodded, deciding that it was not a good idea to press for further information on this topic, "OK," she said, trying to break the tension in the air, "So I guess the question is, what is Viktor doing here?"

"That," Malfoy stood up, drawing a long, thin dagger from his bag as he did, "is what I intend to find out."

Hermione's eyes went wide when she saw the dagger. She swallowed, "What is that for?" she asked, trembling. The look in Malfoy's eyes now was nothing short of terrifying.

"A precaution," was his reply, "I don't know exactly what I'm going to find in there, but I don't intend on taking chances."

"You?" Hermione stood up, "What do you mean 'you'? What happened to 'we'?"

Malfoy stared ahead for a moment, and then turned to face her, "You can't go in there," he said.

"What?" she exclaimed, "Why not?"

"It's dangerous, that's why not."

Hermione shook her head, "Don't give me that. I am not…"

Malfoy moved. Hermione saw the flash of light on metal and froze. The dagger in Malfoy's hand came to a stop just below her chin. Malfoy held it there for a long moment, before he seemed to realise what he was doing. "Sorry," he whispered, lowering he knife, "but you cannot go in there with me."

Hermione released the breath she'd been holding, "Listen to me, Malfoy," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm, "Dumbledore sent me to find out what Viktor is up to. Me," she repeated, "I know you think you have to protect me, but…"

"But nothing," Malfoy interrupted her, "This isn't about protecting you."

Hermione blinked, despite herself, she felt hurt hearing those words, "It isn't?"

"No," Malfoy shook his head. He reached out, taking her by the shoulders and turning her round to look at the club again, "You see those two?" he asked, pointing to the bouncers at the door, "They are there to make sure that only the right kind of people get inside. There are no membership cards or secret handshakes, not with them. People like them work on instinct. It's all about whether you look like you belong there or not. You saw what happened when Krum went in. They barely even looked at him, which means that they know him."

"Maybe, but they don't know you!"

Malfoy nodded, "True, but trust me on this, I will fit in in there a hell of a lot better than you will. I'll be able to be able to move freely, without having to worry about every bouncer in the place jumping me and trust me, they will take one look at you and know that you're a… that you don't belong."

Hermione felt herself tense, "And you do, do you?" she asked, turning round to face him again.

"Trust me," Malfoy's reply was a whisper, "I will fit in in there a hell of a lot better than you. If I'm going to find Krum, I'll have to be able to move freely, without having to worry about every bouncer in the place jumping me and I can't do that with you by my side. You have to stay out here, Granger… Hermione, it's the only way."

Malfoy stepped back, slipping the dagger silently into his left sleeve. He drew his wand and cast a cleaning charm, removing all traces of their long flight from his outward appearance. He pocketed the wand once more, then he adjusted his shirt and smoothed his hair, "How do I look?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. She hated to admit it, but Malfoy had a point. He was the son of a Death Eater after all, a heritage that she couldn't even begin to understand. Still he was taking an awful risk, a risk that, by rights, was hers to take. Finding out what Viktor was doing was her job, not Draco's, but what choice did they have?

"Like an overbearing, overly chauvinistic, asshole!" she replied to his question, but without any real menace in her voice.

Malfoy smirked, winking at her, "Good, then the look is complete," he stepped round her to eye the club once more. "I won't be long," he promised, holding out his hand to her. Hermione took the golden locket from his hand, "The portkey I told you about," he explained, "All you have to do is trigger it and you'll be safe, back in Hogwarts. If I'm not back in an hour…"

Hermione closed her fist around the locket, "Don't make me come in there and get you!" she said sternly.

Malfoy looked at her for a moment, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, "Keep out of sight, ok?"

"Ok."

And then he was gone. Hermione turned and followed him to the end of the alley, ducking into the shadows. She stuffed the locket into her pocket and watched as Malfoy moved out into the square, sticking to the shadows as he made his way towards the club. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest as the bouncers turned to look at him. As Malfoy climbed the steps, one of the two men moved to block his path. From this distance, Hermione couldn't hear what was said but from Malfoy's body language, it appeared as though he was pretending to be highly insulted at the bouncer's actions. After a few moments of animated conversation, the bouncer moved aside and gestured for Malfoy to answer. Malfoy paused to deliver one final insult to the larger man, and then stormed through the door into the club. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she saw him disappear into the building. She slumped against the wall, breathing out her fears one breath at a time.

Across the square, the two bouncers were in conversation. Hermione saw one of them break away and begin talking rapidly into his sleeve. She froze, staring at him. What was he doing? Was he talking to someone inside the club? Some sort of internal communication charm maybe? Hermione had seen muggle bouncers do it after all, why should these guys be any different? After a moment, the man straightened. He turned to his partner, barked a couple of orders at him and then pushed through the doorway into the club.

Hermione's stomach froze. Something was wrong. It couldn't be a coincidence that the bouncers would act so strangely only moments after Malfoy had entered the club. Was it something he said? Or had he been recognised? Malfoy was a traitor to the Death Eaters, what few of them remained nowadays. If this place really was one of their hideouts, then it was not a major intuitive leap to realise that Draco Malfoy would NOT be welcome here. It made sense now. He had known that he wouldn't be safe inside. Yet he'd gone anyway. Damn him! What the hell was he thinking?

Hermione turned to look at the club, the bouncer at the door had been replaced now two new men, no less intimidating than their colleague. She needed to get inside. She had to tell Malfoy that he'd been recognised and that he was in danger. It wasn't worth it. They could find again Viktor later. But how to get inside? Whether the bouncers realised that she wasn't a pureblood or not didn't matter. They had recognised Malfoy and, though she hated to admit it, her face was just as recognisable at his to the former Death Eaters and their associates. She'd been on the front cover of every paper in Europe for weeks following the fall of the Dark Lord. Still, she had to get inside, somehow!

As she chewed her lip, Hermione wracked her brain, searching for a way around the bouncers. Maybe if she caused a distraction at the other side of the square, it might keep them occupied long enough for her to sneak inside. She thought about it, but no, the club was too far away. There was no distraction she could conjure up that would buy her enough time to get inside without at least one of the bouncers seeing her. So what? What was she going to do?

Hermione stamped her foot in frustration. There had to be a way to get into that club. Just then, movement out of the corner of her eye attracted her attention. By the side of the club, a small, side door had been pushed open, casting a sliver of light into the alleyway that ran down the side of the club. As she watched, she saw a woman, wrapped in a long, dirty coat, step outside and close the door behind her. The woman moved a few yards down the alley and then leaned against the wall. A moment later there was a flash of light as she lit a cigarette. In seconds, a plan formed in Hermione's mind. It was risky, way too risky for her to consider under normal circumstances, but it was the only plan she had.

Stepping from the shadows, Hermione stuck to the wall as she crossed the square. She tried to move as quickly and silently as possible as she approached the woman. She had made it to the entrance of the alley when the woman turned and spotted her. She was in her mid to late twenties by the look of her, just a few years older than Hermione. Her face was pretty, but she looked tired, as though she had been on her feet for a long time.

"Hello," Hermione asked, sounding utterly stupid but not knowing what else to say under the circumstances.

The woman replied, but Hermione didn't understand the stream of Slavic syllables. She shrugged and made a motion as though she was smoking. The woman looked at her for a moment, then nodded. She started to rummage in the pockets of her coat for a cigarette as Hermione walked towards her, silently drawing her wand.

"I'm sorry," she apologised honestly before taking aim. The woman looked up, her eyes widening in shock as Hermione pressed her wand against her stomach and whispered, "Stupefy!"


End file.
